Stuart's Inner Most Thoughts in an Outter Most Way

Preparing For The 2010 Walk

2010-10-11T13:55:00.000-05:00

We're just under two weeks away from the Dallas Light the Night Walk. Team Jason is soaring well above the "competition" and will easily slide into 1st place for the 2nd year in a row. I mean, it's not really a competition...we're all raising money for the same cause. But hey, I'll walk a little taller knowing that our team raised more money than all those other teams! LOL

Meantime, as I referenced in my post last month, they'll be presenting Team Jason with the "Jason Harmon Enduring Spirit Award" at this year's walk. When they told me about the award, they asked if I could put together a little bio about Jason and his fight against blood cancer. So, this is what I've come up with. This will be read as an introduction to the award while a slideshow of pictures of him flashes across the two jumbo screens. (Jason would totally be embarrassed...and I LOVE that! hahaha) Let me know what you think:

"For those who knew Jason Andrew Harmon, May 28th will forever be the day cancer entered his life – as well as the day that cancer took his life. Jason was diagnosed with an aggressive and rare form of non-hodgkins lymphoma on May 28th, 2008 several weeks after he first discovered a mass under his arm. Over the months that followed, Jason endured numerous rounds of chemotherapy that eventually lead to a stem cell transplant. By January, Jason and those who loved him learned that nothing seemed to be working to kill his cancer. For two more months, Jason and his doctors continued trying new things. But, after a PET scan in March, doctors discovered Jason's cancer had spread throughout his body. He was given two months to live.

Despite that dire prediction, Jason continued to live his life as normal as possible between the endless stream of doctor visits, blood infusions, and radiation therapy which he insisted they keep doing. He continued searching for new treatment possibilities. He also continued working – something he loved to do – and he continued fighting for every moment of his independence. Throughout his illness, he never wanted to be treated as a “sick person”. He never let cancer run his life or the lives of those who cared for him (no matter how hard they tried). From the very beginning, Jason maintained his fighting spirit.

On May 28th, 2009 – exactly one year to the day of his diagnosis, cancer took Jason's life. But because he never let cancer into heart & soul, he would forever have the last laugh and will always be remembered as a true fighter and survivor. Every day, that part of Jason’s spirit continues to comfort those who love him.

In the wake of Jason's death, Jason's friends & family united with one objective – keeping his fighting spirit alive. Through Team Jason and the Light the Night Walk, members of Team Jason have raised nearly $30,000 in less than two years for patient support and blood cancer research that we all hope will someday lead to a cure."

Until next time --
Stuart

Happy Birthday Jason

2010-09-18T10:32:00.000-05:00

Today is September 18th. It would've been Jason's 41st birthday. This weekend would also be our 3 year anniversary. But something happened yesterday to take a little of all that pain away.

I received a call from our rep at the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. After a discussion earlier in the day, they've decided to create a new award - one that will go to someone who has gone above and beyond the call of duty in fundraising for the society. They decided to name the award after someone who had lost his/her life to one of the many diseases they fight. And, incredibly, they picked Jason. The award will be named The Jason Harmon Enduring Spirit Award.

When Jennfier told me, I was frozen in shock. I immediately started crying and didn't stop for 2 hours. I was just so completely floored that they would choose to honor Jason's fight & my fight to keep his memory alive. And the fact that today's his birthday just made the announcement all the more sweet. And to top it all off, Jason's parents will be at the walk this year.

I can't think of a more perfect way to celebrate Jason, his life, and his birthday.

Until next time --
Stuart

Different Year, Same Feelings

2010-09-12T20:47:00.000-05:00

This time last year, I was dreading September. This month brought with it Jason's 40th birthday, our anniversary, and the first-ever Remembrance Ceremony for the North Texas Leukemia & Lymphoma Society that I was asked to speak at. There were a lot of reminders of Jason, and a lot of reminders that he was gone.

A year later, little has changed for the month of September. His 41st birthday is this Saturday, and the following week would've been our third anniversary. It's also the 2nd annual Remembrance Ceremony, though this year I won't be speaking. So much has changed, yet so much - more than I thought - hasn't.

This was a big week for me. My big Stand Up To Cancer special debuted on Saturday to rave reviews. I've received incredible feedback from everyone involved. The best reaction so far has been from my boss, though. On Friday, I called her into the edit bay to watch a rough cut of the entire special. She hadn't seen any of the stories yet, and I wanted her eyes on it before we put the finishing touches on everything. By the end of it, both of us were in tears. I was crying because I was so incredibly proud of how it all came together. She was in tears because she was moved by so many of the stories we had put together. It was a great moment for me in my life & my career. And at that moment, I also cried because the one person I wanted to share it with wasn't there.

That hurt like hell. I haven't hurt in a long time from all of this, but damn it that hurt. I wanted to pick up the phone and call him and tell him how great it had turned out. I wanted to sit, wrapped in his arms, while watcing my masterpiece on TV yesterday. That is the only thing that could've made this whole experience any better.

And now, I'm looking ahead to Saturday which would've been Jason's 41st birthday. We don't have much planned - not like we did last year. But, I'm sure a few of us will get together and toast him. It's hard to for me to believe that it's only been three years since Jason and I first met face to face. It was the weekend of his birthday, and it was love at first sight.

So, once again... a year later... I'm wishing September would disappear. This month only brings with it sadness, and memories of a life that's been changed forever.

By the way - if you'd like to watch my special, just click the name: CBS11 Special Report: North Texans Stand Up To Cancer.

Until next time --
Stuart

It's Been A While...

2010-09-04T22:54:00.000-05:00

Wow! It's been a long time since I got on here and wrote something. Over a month. Time flies, I guess. Things have been quite crazy around here - mainly with work. I took on a huge project recently that's quite literally taken up my entire life. It's something I'm extremely passionate about...can you guess? That's right, it's about cancer.

A couple months ago, I pitched a proposal to my management about putting together a 30-minute special about the fight against cancer in North Texas. We're tying it all into the national Stand Up To Cancer which will be airing across many different networks on Friday, September 10th. Our local special will be airing on Saturday, September 11th.

Within this special, we're profiling local patients who have or currently are standing up to fight cancer. We're profiling doctors who have made it their life's work to beat cancer. We're taking a tour of a brand new, state-of-the-art cancer center that will be opening soon in Dallas. And, we're remembering Leah Siegel - a breast cancer patient I blogged about who passed away recently. It's 30-minutes full of information, compelling & emotional battles, inspiration, and hope.

I was talking to a friend of mine tonight about purpose. He's having trouble figuring out what his purpose in life is supposed to be. I have to wonder if I've found mine...courtesy of what happened to me and to Jason. I have such a passion, desire, and frankly a need to talk about cancer - the disease, those fighting it, and those trying to stop it. The more we talk the closer we get to figuring out a better way to beat it. It just makes me wonder if all of this happened so that one more voice - a voice with the opportunity to take to the airwaves - would be added to the chorus of millions of other voices already screaming.

I have put my heart and soul into this special. It's become a mission...my mission. After this week, it'll be over. But I don't want it to be. I want to continue doing this work. The last few weeks have been so incredible. I've met so many amazing people - patients and doctors - whose stories are just unbelievable. One woman, Gail, was diagnosed with breast cancer in her 30s. She beat it, and then over the next 15 years was diagnosed with lung cancer three different times. This past spring, she was diagnosed with breast cancer again! That's FIVE different cancer diagnoses over the last 30 years. Yet through all of that she has kept her amazingling positive attitude and most of all...her loving husband has stood by her side through it all. Their love truly has withstood the test of time.

I met a 16-year old girl who cried during her interview saying she wasn't ready to die. She was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia last year and just became the first in North Texas to have a specialized treatment. She's now looking forward to a future of finishing school and becoming an oncology nurse at the same hospital where her life was saved.

I interviewed a husband who just three weeks prior lost his wife to breast cancer. I, unfortunately, have the unique perspective of knowing what he's going through...so needless to say, we both cried our way through that interview. But more importantly, her life & legacy is already working wonders...reaching thousands of people around the world. It's incredible to me how much impact one life can have.

This may be my job, but this is someone else working through me. This is Jason's impact on my life. I wouldn't be doing any of this - telling any of these incredible stories - if it weren't for him and his stamp on my heart. As cheesey as that sounds...it's the honest to G-d truth. His battle with cancer, his bravery, his "no giving up" attitude inspired me beyond belief. He changed my life forever...and my work now is finally reflecting that. And, it's making me miss him even more. I so wish he was here with me as I worked my way through this special. I would've loved to come home, collapse in his arms, and tell him about all these awesome people I've met. I think he would've liked hearing their stories.

Until next time --
Stuart

A Day Of Mourning

2010-07-30T10:10:00.001-05:00

I've been to one funeral since Jason's. It was for my brother's friends who died. But, somehow this funeral today feels different. It's still hours away, and already I'm on the verge of tears.

Leah embodied hope & fight to me in the months after Jason died. She was my beacon...the one person who I thought would kick the shit out of cancer. I was so beat down after what happened, that I hung onto every positive update I got from her. And then, just like Jason's case, things took a turn and never recovered.

It's just not fair. My colleague/friend Meridith - who also knew Leah - will be attending the funeral with me today. This is her second cancer related funeral in a month! Her best friend's husband recently died after battling his cancer for almost 10 years. It's just unreal.

At work, I've been given an incredible opportunity to help give a voice and put a face on cancer in North Texas. As you probably know, the big 3 networks are joining forces again this year for "Stand Up To Cancer". It'll be a live simulcasted event across the networks on September 10th. Last month, I put together a proposal for a localized Stand Up To Cancer special, and it was approved! I've already got more than a dozen stories lined up to start shooting over the next few weeks.

But, as I sit here in my suit...the very same suit I wore for Jason's funeral...I have pause about this wonderful special I'm going to be putting together. I know myself enough to know that I will become attached to the patients & families I profile. Am I setting myself up for more emotional cutting in the future if something happens to one of them? Probably so. Can I handle more of this? I'm not sure I can answer that today.

Either way, I will not let anything - grief, or otherwise - stand in my way of doing this special. It means the world to me to do it, and I will give it 110%. After it's done, though, I'm thinking I need to hang up my "cancer hat" for a little while and emotionally take a break. I'm finally understanding why my therapist was so concerned about me wanting to change careers and work in a cancer-related field. My wound is still so raw, and it's only pouring salt on it.

At least, that's how I feel today...but, maybe tomorrow will be a different story.

Until next time --
Stuart

Another Devastating Loss

2010-07-26T18:42:00.000-05:00

Wow. It's been more than a month since my last blog. I guess that means I a) didn't have the time to blog, or b) didn't have anything interesting to say. That's changed.

Today, the world lost another incredible person to cancer. Leah Siegel battled stage four breast cancer for less than two years. She died this morning at 4:30am.

I was first introduced to Leah through a story we were doing here at my TV station. Leah's story crossed our desk after she was diagnosed. They found her cancer just days after she gave birth to her third child. Our first story followed her through some of her treatment, and how she dealt with cancer while still being a full-time mom & wife. She truly was an inspiration to everyone fighting the disease. Her outlook was incredible. Here's the first story: http://cbs11tv.com/health/leah.siegel.cancer.2.960814.html

I remember laying on Jason's couch, wrapped in his arms, while we both watched that story. It aired exactly one week before we found out that Jason's cancer had exploded all over his body. Yet, at the time, we suspected something was going on. Her story hit such a core with both of us. I wrote to Leah the next day and introduced myself and told her our story. She was such a sweetheart and emailed me back right away. We began talking through email keeping up on each other's progress. After Jason died, she was so supportive, and even donated money to Team Jason - all while trying to keep herself afloat while paying for her own treatments.

We did a second story on Leah in November last year. She had just started a new clinical trial and things were starting to look up. For the first time in a while, Leah had hope that she was going to live for several more years. This story aired 8 months ago - http://cbs11tv.com/health/Leah.Siegel.breast.2.1302121.html.

I felt like I had become friends with Leah. We had met for meals, I visited her in the hospital, etc. She was a wonderful, wondeful person...and I loved spending time with her.

Leah was admitted to the hospital again a couple weeks ago, and things were not looking good. By last week, things had gone from bad to worse, and it was obvious to everyone - including Leah - that the end was near. In fact, that's what she said on her Facebook post. How very "21st century" announcing your imminent death online. Here's part of her post: "Elvis might be leaving the building. We are probably down to just days or weeks.So now it's time to leave my Facebook friends." That was her last post dated July 18th.

This morning, we received word that Leah had passed. And, once again, I was transported back to that dimly lit living room on Dunhaven, holding Jason's hand...hearing the hospice nurse say "He's gone." The other producer who worked on Leah's story contacted me, and we decided she deserved one more story. So here's the tribute piece we aired today at 5pm. As you can see, our anchor Karen was touched by Leah as well...http://cbs11tv.com/video/?id=56287@ktvt.dayport.com.

After her post on Facebook, I sent her a note and said "Hey, when you get up there...please find Jason and give him a big hug for me and tell him I love him." She replied "Is he allowed to associate with Jews up there?" Her sense of humor was intact all the way to the end. LOL

Leah Siegel, you will forever be loved. You will forever be remembered, and you will forever be missed.

Until next time --
Stuart

Moving On...I think

2010-06-21T23:37:00.000-05:00

So, it's been a few weeks since my last post...since my return from Boston...since the year anniversary. It's amazing to me how much things have changed for me in such a short amount of time. What a difference a year makes.

Since my last post, I really feel like I've let myself move on. This past weekend, I went on two dates...with two different guys. And, I tell you what... it felt GREAT to be back out there. It felt good to be in the company of another man, to have that anticipation in the pit of my stomach, and to have that playful interaction that only comes with dating. I forgot how much I missed all of that.

A funny (funny weird, not funny haha) thing happened last weekend. I knew it was coming, I remembered it...of course...but on the actual day, it was completely gone from my mind. There was one more first...an anniversary of sorts. Last Sunday, June 13th, was the year anniversary of the day we buried Jason's ashes. I expected that I would remember that day and do something special to commemorate the day. But, I woke up without a thought and went through my day without a thought. I never once looked at the date otherwise I think it would've triggered. It wasn't until the next day that it hit me.

At first, I felt guilty that I had "forgotten" so quickly. I felt bad that I didn't do something that day to remember him. But, then, the more I thought about it...the more I forgave myself and realized that this is a good thing. I didn't need to remember that day. That was an awful day, and why would I want to commemorate that day a year later? There was no reason to mark the day, and subconciously I guess I knew that. My guilt melted away, and I accepted the fact that it was just part of moving on.

I've felt good the last few weeks. I've felt good about myself. I've felt good about my life and the direction its going. I feel that good things are ahead of me, and I'm looking forward to them. That's not to say that I haven't looked back...because I have. I've thought about Jason almost every day since I got back from Boston. I'm still working on Team Jason and reaching our $25,000 goal. I feel like, for the first time since he died, that I'm finally finding a balance between keeping him in my heart and beginning to live my life again. It feels good. And, I think Jason would be proud.

Until next time--
Stuart

Beyond A Year

2010-06-01T11:48:00.000-05:00

It's now June 1, 2010. No longer can I say "Last year, when Jason was alive...". I'm sure there will still be a few "firsts" that I stumble on over the next few months, but for the most part... the "firsts" are done and gone. And, quite honestly, I'm glad.

I've said it a few times in this space... I often feel that the anticipation of an upcoming event, anniversary, etc is harder than the actual thing itself. The same was definitely true for the year anniversary. I was dreading that day... a lot. But, the actual day itself was actually quite nice. Jerrod & I spent the day with Jason's parents just relaxing on their beautiful deck...enjoying the incredible weather. We laughed, we cried, we told stories about Jason... we talked about the final days, and remembered the days that followed. We definitely laughed more than we cried, which I think is a good thing. Progress, I guess. It was exactly the way I envisioned the day would be...and it was fantastic.

Saying goodbye to Jason's parents, and then standing at the grave one last time before we left town... I felt a sense of peace about it all. For the first time since this all happened, I don't know when I'll be returning to Boston to see them. I had a bit of guilt about that...that I was leaving everyone behind, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized...I have to do what's best for me. I need to pick myself up. I need to start moving on. I need to do this for me...and I need to do this for Jason because I know it's what he'd want.

Getting on that plane to come home, it was almost liberating. By the time I landed in Dallas, I felt this new sense of calm come over me. The year was done. It was over, and I feel like I gave myself permission to release and let go. This morning walking into work, a colleague of mine mention how different I looked. She said I looked more refreshed, more "together" than I have in months. It made me wonder how much I had let the 1-year anniversary affect me without even realizing it. I guess it had...though I wasn't aware of it.

So now, beyond a year, it's onward and upward. I think I've said it before, but this time I feel like I actually have the means to do it -- I am ready to move on. Jason will forever be a part of my life and my heart. But now, I feel like I can begin to let the other parts of my heart beat stronger... and hopefully in the future... be filled with love again for another. There is no greater thing in this life than to be loved and give love in return. I can't wait to feel that again.

Until next time --
Stuart

May 28, 2010

2010-05-28T23:00:00.000-05:00

It's Friday, May 28, 2010. It's been one year since I watched the love of my life slip away from me. I've been dreading this day for weeks now, but I'm starting to learn the anticipation of the event is actually worse than the event itself. Today has actually been a pretty great day. I think it's a day that Jason would've loved since...well... it was all about him. LOL I'm kidding. But seriously, it was a good day.

After breakfast, Jerrod and I went to the cemetery for some private time. It was there that I had my "big breakdown" for the day. Walking up to his gravestone, a wave of sadness came over me. As I drew nearer, the tears just started to fall. I walked to the back of the stone where Jason's name is engraved, I sat down in the grass, and I just cried. I touched his name...retracing it with my fingers...Jason Andrew Harmon...and then I put my hand on the date...May 28, 2009. A date that forever changed my life.

I sat there for a few minutes and continued to touch his name, cry, and tell him how much I miss & still love him. Jerrod was so sweet to walk around and give me a few minutes to myself. I stood up as he walked back over, and we hugged in front of the stone. I expressed how incredible it was to me that the pain was just as great one year later as it was the day it happened. It blows my mind that in a year it's never lessened...not that I really expected it to. We stood there and cried together for a minute before I headed back to the car to give him some time alone.

A few minutes later, we were on our way to Jason's parent's house where we remained for the majority of the day. We sat outside on their beautiful deck enjoying this amazing weather. We sat and talked about Jason, remembering the final days...but not the sad stuff. We remembered the funny things, the jokes, the comments...the things that made us laugh. There were a few tears here and there, but it really felt good to laugh. Later in the afternoon, the four of us headed back to the cemetery to mark the event together. A few more tears, but there was more laughter, too.

Jason's friends John-Michael and his wife Heather drove down from New Hampshire to meet us for dinner. John-Michael had been there with us on Jason's final day last year, so we were so happy to get to spend the evening with them on this special day. Dinner was fantastic, and so was the company. More stories, more laughter... it really made for the perfect ending to a great day of memories.

On top of all of that, (as of this writing) our "Donate On 28" campaign for Team Jason helped land us another $3,900! Combined with our total, that gives Team Jason $11,900 so far this year. That's already $1,000 more than what we raised last year following his death. Absolutely INCREDIBLE!

Jason would've been proud.

May 28, 2009

2010-05-28T00:05:00.001-05:00

It's Thursday, May 28, 2009.

4:45am: I woke up after hearing some moaning coming from the living/dining room. It was Jason, but it didn't sound like he was in pain. Then, there was a knock at my door. It was Brenda, the hospice nurse who had been staying overnight. She asked me if I could come help her shift Jason to one side so she could do something. I jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom, and then ran to Jason's bedside.

4:55am: We finished what she said she needed to do, and rolled Jason back on his back. I noticed something about his eyes, though...something not right. They were half open, sort of, and all I could see was white...as if his eyes had rolled back. I also noticed that his breathing had changed, becoming more shallow. He was reaching for every breath. I looked at Brenda and asked "Is this happening now?" She said "Yes, I think so." I immediately started screaming for Jason's parents to wake up and get to the bedside as quick as possible. Jason made it very clear that he wanted to go with me on one side and them on the other...and I was determined to make that happen (whether he was aware of it or not).

5:00am: After a couple minutes of screaming, his parents came out of the guest bedroom and ran over to Jason. I was already crying, and didn't need to say much for them to figure out what was happening. We each took our positions - I was holding his left hand in mine, and the two of them held his right hand. I waited a beat for them to say something, but no one spoke. The only sound we heard was his breathing which was becoming more shallow and hollow. I began to speak - summoning whatever strength I had left in me. "Jason, it's time to go. You need to go. You need to let go. Don't worry about us. We're going to be just fine. You need to release yourself. Let the pain go away. Just let go, sweetheart, it's ok to let go." I just kept saying that over and over again. Finally, his parents both said something, reassuring him as I had been doing. We told him how much we loved him, how much we would miss him, but it was time to go.

For five minutes, we stood there caressing his hands, his face, talking to him. With each passing minute, his breathing got slower and slower. Each time one of us said "It's ok to let go", more time would pass between breaths...

5:06am: Jason struggled for a breath. He held it in, and then a long exhale...making a sound like nothing I've ever heard. It's a sound I will never forget. And then....silence. No movement. No breathing. Nothing. At that moment, I let out a cry... and all of a sudden, he took another breath. But just one, and again, a long exhale. I held my breath at the same time. Silence.

Jason was gone.

No one spoke for a minute or so, and then Brenda - who had been using a stethoscope to listen to Jason's heart rhythm looked up at us and said "I'm so sorry." His parents and I burst into tears...the two of them hugging, and then the three of us. We broke away...stood there staring at Jason's body - now lying there without his spirit inside.

I broke away to begin making the phone calls that needed to be made. I called my parents. Then I called his friends Jerrod, Rob, Mike, and John-Michael. Meanwhile, Brenda had already called in and reported the death and asked for the funeral home to come and get him. Luckily, that didn't happen for a couple more hours. It was enough time for the other four guys and my parents to arrive at the house and pay their respects. We each took turns sitting by his side, holding his hand....caressing his face. A few times, I even kissed his forehead...and once, his lips. He was already so cold.

After 7am, the funeral home arrived to take him away. They entered the house and asked everyone to leave. They recommend that because seeing what they do can be quite traumatic for grieving families. I didn't care. I had to stay there to make sure he was treated right. I never left his side before, and I wasn't going to start now. I watched as they lifted his body off the hospital bed and placed him (sheet, clothes, and all) on their gurney. I watched as they drew an ugly green blanket over his feet, legs, torso, and then finally his face. While everyone else waited outside, I watched as they wheeled the gurney out the front door and down the front steps. I ran outside and watched as they took the man of my dreams, the love of my life...and hoisted his body into their van. I stood there, crying, screaming at times...and watched as they drove away...down the street...away from me...away from everyone who loved him.

It was done.

Jason was gone.

When I first started going to therapy right after Jason was diagnosed, my counselor gave me a book to read called "Final Gifts". It was written by two hospice nurses, and it detailed the final days of many patients they cared for. It talked about how the dying will choose when, where, and who they want present when they cross over. I fully believe that book gave me the strength to know what to do when the time came. Jason's moaning that morning was his way of saying "Hello! This is happening, and I need you all here." I later confirmed that with Brenda...who confided that she really didn't need my help. She only woke me because she knew we were only minutes away.

The rest of the day was spent making an obscene number of phone calls, writing emails, and setting up the memorial service which was held two days later. That night, we all went out to dinner...and it felt good to get out of the house for a bit. While we ate, we shared stories about Jason, reminisced about the things that made us laugh. In particular, we joked about one of his favorite movies - Drop Dead Gorgeous. So, when we got back to the house, we decided to pop the movie in and watch. It felt good to laugh...knowing that he was right there laughing with us.

It's now been on year since that incredibly awful day. And I can honestly say, it hurts just as much now as it did the day it happened. May 28th will forever be a day of sadness for me. Not only is it the day that cancer entered our lives, it is now also the day that Jason left our lives. Physically left our lives. Spiritually, he remains very much apart of our lives. And for that, I'm eternally grateful.

May 27, 2009

2010-05-27T00:05:00.000-05:00

It's Wednesday, May 27, 2009. I woke up early again this morning after hearing Jason moaning from the other room. I laid in bed for a minute to listen and see if he was truly in distress, and after hearing his dad's voice, I got up to go check on things. Jason was writhing around in the hospital bed, scrunching his face in pain. But this didn't seem like the normal pain he had been experiencing in recent days and weeks. This was agony. He was in extreme pain.

I immediately got on the phone to the hospice nurse (mind you, just yesterday we had practically begged for 24 hour care and were told it wasn't critical enough yet) to get her take on what we should do. She instructed me to retrieve the morphine from the refrigerator and administer a few drops. It was the strangest thing, though... when I got back to Jason's bedside with the medication, he quite literally panicked when he saw me with it. I'm not sure what he thought it was, but his dad and I had to stop and calm him down and explain that it was going to help him. After a few minutes, he relaxed a bit and allowed me to drop the drug into his mouth.

An hour later, the pain was worse. The morphine didn't help, so I called the nurse again. Again I asked for her to rush over, that a professional needed to handle this. Again she told me to give him two more drops of the morphine. I complied, and after another hour, things were still getting worse. This time, I called the "case supervisor" and all but threatened her life if someone wasn't at the house in a matter of minutes. I don't often do this, but I threw my job in her face and explained that she was "fucking with the wrong investigator" and that she "better fix this situation fast" or she'd "find Vitas and its incompetance plastered on the 10:00 news".

Another hour later, we had a team at the house, and Jason was placed on 24 hour care. They also administered another pain medication which seemed to work. Jason stopped moaning, and was able to relax and fall back asleep. So, now we were staffed with a home health-care worker all day, which allowed us to relax a bit more and spend time talking to Jason rather than trying to fix the problem.

After the morning drama, the afternoon was pretty quiet. By now, Jason was sleeping most of the time. It was getting harder to wake him, and when we were able to, he didn't stay lucid for very long. He was also unable to talk or more very much. It was almost as if he was becoming paralyzed as death took hold of his body. A few more visitors stopped by that evening including our favorite nurse, Leah, from Baylor. She brought Jason a Frosty from Wendys...which we actually used to help administer some medications, since he was now having trouble swallowing. Jason loved Leah so much, and you could tell because he actually became more aware while she was there. He did his "Oh hi!" thing to her several times, which made us all laugh. Even like this, he was still so cute.

I walked Leah out to her car a little while later, and she told me she thought it would be over by the weekend. She told me that he was very close, and that we needed to stay close by. I'm so glad we had someone like Leah to hold our hands through all of this. It made things so much easier to digest and handle knowing we were getting the best advice. I hugged her goodbye and told her I would call her after it happened.

Our night-time hospice nurse arrived a little earlier and had settled in by the time Leah left. Jason hadn't woken up for several hours, and by midnight, we all decided we should get some sleep. Like the previous night, I sat next to him for a minute before trying to wake him. This time, though...he didn't wake up. I didn't push, instead, I kissed his lips, said "I love you so much", and turned to go to bed.

Only Hours Left

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Therapy

2010-05-26T00:12:00.000-05:00

I'm a firm believer that those who have "crossed over" can give us signs that they're still around us, seeing everything that goes on. I've talked about a few of those instances in previous blogs. Today - a funny thing happened on the way to therapy.

I was extremely late leaving work, and I was in a terrible rush. Naturally, that meant that there was a lot of traffic which also leads to frustration and annoyance. I began fiddling around with my phone, the radio, etc and wasn't really paying attention to what was in front of me. I don't know how long it was there, but in one instant, I looked up and saw it.

Vitas was the name of the hospice organization we used to help take care of Jason. It's a name that - even a year later - I'm not very happy seeing. The truck that came to deliver the hospital bed & supplies had the name plastered in big font on the side of the truck...and I remember watching the truck drive away after they had picked up all the equipment after Jason died. I haven't seen another Vitas truck since that day...until tonight.

I looked up after fidgeting with my phone and my jaw dropped. There in front of me was a Vitas truck. My first instinct was to cry. But, instead, I began laughing. I laughed because I knew it was a joke sent by Jason to make me laugh. Of all the days to see that truck (one year to the day that it arrived on Jason's driveway to drop off the bed, etc)...I knew it was Jason's way of showing me that he's still here with me, that we're still in this together.

May 26, 2009

2010-05-26T00:05:00.001-05:00

It's Tuesday, May 26, 2009. I was woken up early by some movement in the bed. I opened my eyes to see Jason trying to get out of bed. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was trying to go to the bathroom. I jumped out of bed and helped him up, walked him to the toilet, sat him down, and then waited at the door. He hadn't been to the bathroom in days, and I didn't expect that he'd be doing anything now...but it's what he wanted.

I peeked through the crack in the door and saw him struggling to sit up. After a few minutes, he looked like he was having trouble, so I went in to help him up. There was nothing in the toilet, but he didn't notice and flushed anyway. I got him back to bed, but felt something hit my arm. It was blood. My first thought was another nose bleed, but I looked and he was fine. I turned and looked at the bathroom and there was a trail of blood back to the bed. I panicked running my hands all over his body trying to find the source until I came to the IV line still in his left arm. Blood was literally shooting from the entry point onto him, onto me, and onto the bed. I threw him on his back and jerked his arm into the air which stopped the spurting. I screamed for his parents to wake up and come in to help me. We got a towel on it and applied pressure while I called the nurse.

We ended up having to call the paramedics who were there in minutes. They were able to stop the bleeding and wrapped his arm to keep it from bursting again. It seems that when I picked Jason up off the toilet, I must've grabbed his arm in an awkward way and ruptured the IV line. It was a scary sight - especially having to call the paramedics. It was at that point that I knew we needed more help from hospice. I spent the next several hours screaming my way through different hospice workers before finally getting some movement. They'd be delivering a hospital bed and other supplies later that afternoon.

After we got everything cleaned up, we got Jason out to the living room where he laid down on the couch. His parents and I, in the meantime, had a little conference in the other room where we discussed the difficult topic of planning the end. Jason wanted to be cremated, so we needed to line up the funeral home, find an urn, etc. They were going to go that afternoon to set all that up. I felt so bad for them...in this strange city they didn't know having to go to a funeral home they knew nothing about to deal with the final arrangements for their only son. It was just an incredibly sad situation.

While they were gone, hospice arrived and set up the hospital bed. We also got a wheelchair, and a few other supplies. We also learned that we'd be getting more help - in the form of a home health aide...basically someone to help lift him up, clean him, etc. That was a relief...after some very frustrating moments trying to get the hospice company to respond to our pleas. We really wanted 24 hour care, but were told the situation was not critical enough for that. As soon as the bed was set up, Jason wanted to get in it. We helped him up, shuffled him over and sat him down. He never got out of that bed again.

Later that evening, a group of Jason's friends came by to bring dinner (even though we were still overrun with food) and spend some quality time with him. By now, though, Jason was in and out of it quite frequently. So, instead, we spent the night hearing amazing and hilarious stories about him while he slept. Every once in a while, he'd wake up, smile, and say "Oh hi!" to someone who addressed him. It was so cute the way he said it, and made everyone's mood a little lighter. That is until it was time for them to say goodbye. There were lots of tears, hugs, and kisses. Everyone knew this would be the last time they saw him alive. Standing by watching these first set of goodbyes was incredibly gut-wrenching and only made me dread the final moment when I had to do the same.

I wanted to stay up with Jason in the living room where the hospital bed was, but his dad insisted that I get some sleep. He wanted to spend time with Jason, and I wasn't about to deny him that. So, I went over to the bed, sat down next to Jason and held his hand. Watching him sleep, so peacefully...it actually made me smile. I knew his pain would be over soon, and for that I was thankful. I squeezed his hand and said his name. He opened his eyes, and I looked directly into them. I leaned in and kissed him...he kissed back...and I told him I loved him. He said "I love you too baby" before closing his eyes again. It was the last time I ever heard him say that.

Two Days Left

May 25, 2009

2010-05-25T00:05:00.001-05:00

It's Monday, May 25, 2009. It's Memorial Day, and it's the day when things really started to take a turn. As I stated yesterday, I normally spend time with my family on Sundays, but this week was different. Because of the holiday, I had made plans to attend a family bar-b-q at my parents house, and was very much looking forward to getting some time in the pool. I needed to relax.

Jason woke up in pain that morning... a fair amount of pain. He always told me he was never afraid of dying. The only thing he feared was the pain. He did not want to die in pain. So, naturally, when I saw that he was having such a hard time, I wanted to do whatever I could to fix it. He was also continuing to have frequent nose-bleeds, and I knew he desperately needed an infusion of platelets.

Once again, I called our nurse/friend at the hospital and begged to bring him in for some quick treatment. She finally agreed, and the plan was set in motion. We helped Jason out to the car and then piled in and headed to the hospital. Jason was so weak by that point, he was really starting to have trouble walking. While enroute to the hospital, I called ahead and asked them to meet us downstairs with a wheelchair. Susan & Kirsten - two of our absolute favorites - met us at the valet entrance. They helped Jason out and whisked him upstairs to get started while the rest of us parked.

Back on the 5th floor, Jason chose to lay down and selected a room with a bed instead of the regular "chaired" rooms. They hooked him up to fluids, and got the platelets ready to go. But shortly after we arrived, Jason began feeling some intense pain. The doctor was called and ordered IV pain meds, so we knew we were going to be there for a while. At first, I decided I wouldn't go to my parents house, but after his parents - and even he - insisted I go, I decided I could use a couple hours away. I waited until the pain meds kicked in...when I could visibly see that Jason was beginning to relax before I kissed him, squeezed his hand, and then left.

I made it to the car before I let the tears flow. I cried the entire drive to my parents while also catching up on phone calls and updating those who needed to be updated. At my parents, I was able to relax a little and spend some quality time in the pool. I stayed there for a few hours, and after eating, I packed it up and headed back to the house. Jason and the crew had just arrived shortly before I did, and I could tell the mix of fluids, platelets, and pain meds had helped. Jason was almost like himself again, but after a couple more hours, that quickly faded.

By nighttime, he was having a considerable amount of trouble getting up, standing, and even walking. We had to walk with him, someone in front and someone in back to make sure he didn't fall. Jason's humor was still in tact, though. At one point as we were shuffling along the floor to the kitchen, he looked up into my eyes and smiled and said "Look babe, we're dancing." We laughed about that together. We had started talking to hospice about beginning more regular care (at this point, they were only checking in one time a day) because we felt that things were getting way beyond our capabilities. However, they didn't feel like it had reached that point and told us to hang in there. Whatever.

We got Jason to the bedroom and decided to put him on my side of the bed which was closest to the bathroom. He really hadn't gone to the bathroom since Saturday, but we thought in case he had to, this way we wouldn't have to walk him all the way across the room. So, we switched sides. I got him settled and then climbed into bed. He was having a lucid moment and we were able to talk a little. I asked him again if he was scared, and he said no. Again, just of the pain. He apologized for putting me through all of this, a statement that made me nudge him angrily. He told me how much he loved me, and I echoed while telling him how much he's changed my life. It was an amazing moment, something I realized later a lot of people in our situation don't get. G-d was giving us our chance to say everything we needed to say...and we did. It turns out this would be the last night we'd be in bed together...forever.

Three Days Left

May 24, 2009

2010-05-24T00:05:00.001-05:00

It's Sunday, May 24, 2009. Normally on Sundays, I'd be leaving Jason's mid afternoon to go spend time with my family, but on this Sunday, I'm staying put. Jason's best friend Jerrod is coming by later with his mother. And, there's a new issue we're dealing with. Nose-bleeds.

When Jason's platelet level gets low, he starts getting nose-bleeds. Shortly after we woke up and moved into the living room they started to come. We'd get it to stop bleeding for a few minutes, and then out of nowhere it would start again. I put a call into our favorite nurse at the hospital - someone we'd become very close to - and asked if we needed could come in and get him an infusion of platelets. She told me that it really wouldn't do much good and to just keep him home and take care of him as best we could. She was also a little surprised that hospice wasn't there to help us.

I put a call into the hospice representative and discovered that no one really knew what was going on with Jason's case. It was the first of many screw-ups during our journey through hospice. Either way, we were there at home, which is what Jason wanted, and we were doing the best we could. Jerrod and his mother arrived after lunch, and Jason tried his best to stay a part of the conversation. But more often than before, he was beginning to space out. He would join the conversation, and then midway through a sentence, he'd stop and glass over. It was as if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open.

We got through the visit with Jerrod & his mother, and Jason was visibly tired. He went to lay down in bed, and his mom went in to be with him. Shortly after Jerrod left, a few friends of mine from work showed up and surprised the hell out of me. They pulled up with a car full of food. Literally - there was enough food in there to feed an army. We were all completely blown away by my co-workers generosity. It was an incredible sight...one that brought me to tears.

The rest of the day was spent dealing with a few more nose-bleeds, but after the visit by the "Food Fairies" it was as if we were all re-energized to keep on fighting. There was a new air of hope in the house, but unfortunately, it didn't last long.

Four Days Left

May 23, 2009

2010-05-23T01:18:00.001-05:00

It's Saturday, May 23, 2009. All of us were still reeling from the news from the previous day. Luckily, Jason didn't need to go to the hospital that day, so we were able to spend the day together. My parents and I were scheduled to go to the symphony that night, and we had made plans to get everyone together for dinner beforehand...though it would all depend on how Jason was feeling. He woke up in a fair amount of pain which really didn't go away during the day despite our efforts to mask it.

He was still mobile, still up walking around, talking normally. Except for the fact that you could see the giant mass of tumor which had now deformed his right shoulder, you would never know that this beautiful man was days away from death. Even the hospice worker remarked at how "healthy" he looked for someone who needed hospice.

As the day progressed, Jason's pain level progressed as well. We decided dinner with my folks wouldn't be a good idea, so I instructed my parents to come pick me up after dinner for the symphony. We were going to see the Dallas Symphony Orchestra performing the 1812 Overture. It's one of my favorite pieces of music, my dad's too... and Jason all but insisted that I continue with my plans to go. Even in the face of dying, he wanted to make sure that I wasn't drowning myself in what was going on. He was always thinking of others instead of himself.

I kissed him intently before leaving the house with my folks. Once at the symphony, I texted him until the concert began, and then again during intermission. The 1812 was the final piece that night and it was amazing. It's such a beautiful piece of music and this was the first time I've seen it performed live in person. It was a truly memorable experience, and I'm so glad I was able to see it. That piece became so much more to me through this ordeal, but more on that in future blogs.

I arrived back at the house shortly after 11pm, and was surprised to see everyone still awake...waiting for me to come back. It seems in the few hours that I had been gone, things had already started to change. I didn't want to believe it. I noticed his mom holding his cup for him and asked what was going on. She informed me that he was no longer able to hold onto things...he apparently had dropped a number of cups throughout the night. I didn't believe it. A few minutes later, I went to refill his drink, and handed it to him like normal. Within a minute, the glass was on the floor and water was everywhere. I just looked at him...as he continued to stare forward at the TV not realizing what had just happened. I knew then that this was really happening.

After I changed into my pajama's, I had to help Jason stand up so that we could get to bed. I walked him into the kitchen where we performed our special dance - I got his pills together, put his fentanyl patches on him, and then helped him into our bed. He fell asleep quite quickly that night, and thankfully so. He didn't hear me crying next to him...having finally come to the understanding that our days together were numbered.

Five Days Left

May 22, 2009

2010-05-22T00:03:00.000-05:00

It's Friday, May 22, 2009. With Jason's parents now in town, I decided to go to work on Friday and spend the day catching up on all the work I had left behind the last week while taking care of Jason. He and his dad, in the meantime, spent the day at the hospital getting the necessary fluids - blood, platelets, etc - that he needed. Little did I know they were also running some other tests on him...results I'd find out later.

I spent the day at work trying to focus on my job. However, when the love of your life is dying literally before your eyes, it's hard to focus on anything but that. The boys at work did their best to make me laugh, but there was an air hanging in the room that day, and everyone knew it. I made it through the work-day and sprinted out of there as soon as I could.

I arrived home before Jason & his dad did. I found his mom there alone, and we had a nice chat just the two of us. The boys got home around 6pm, literally seconds before the 1st hospice nurse arrived to check in. I met Jason at the door, and he gave me a look... a look that said "I don't have good news." My heart sank, but I hid it as best I could from everyone else. We sat and chatted with the hospice nurse for a while. She ran her tests on Jason, wrote the results down, and then was out the door. Jason's parents had stepped out to the backyard during this, so we took a few minutes to ourselves after the nurse left. That's when he dropped the bomb.

His kidneys had begun to shut down, and they told him it would now be a matter of days...not weeks. Can you even begin to imagine when the man you love is sitting in front you telling you he's going to be dead in days? It's something I wish I never heard...but it's something I'll never forget. I told him we needed to tell his parents (his Dad had been told to leave the room when Jason initially got the news). He agreed, begrudgingly. We invited his parents back in, sat them down, and Jason told them the news. It was like an out of body experience...sitting there watching him tell his parents that their only son was going to be gone soon.

We invited a couple of his friends out to dinner that night and filled them in on the situation as well. Things were going to start happening fast, and we needed everyone to be on the same page. But fast doesn't even begin to describe how quickly things started to go downhill the next few days.

Six Days Left.

May 21, 2009

2010-05-21T10:43:00.000-05:00

It's May 21, 2009. Jason and I woke up early that morning to get to the hospital for whatever things he needed done that day. We were pretty well rested, having had a pretty good time the night before. The night of the 20th, I had joked with him that I wanted to get my nails done, and that he should too. He told me he had never had a manicure or pedicure before, and that sealed the deal. We dropped everything and went to a nearby nail salon.

We sat next to each other in the pedicure chairs as the two ladies worked on our feet. We looked at each other, smiled, and at one point he gently put his hand on my arm. I could see it in his face, he was genuinely relaxing. It was a good thing. I finished first, and then went over to the desk and had my hands worked on. When that was done, I realized I had forgotten to get cash. I left Jason at the store while they finished with him so I could run and grab cash. When I returned, all three of them had been crying. In her broken english, one of the women said to me "You really love him, don't you?" Taken aback, I said "Absolutely. How could you not fall in love with that?"

On the way home, I pressed Jason to tell me what was said, but he didn't. It wasn't until several days later that he told me about their conversation...how he told them about his cancer, about how he was dying, and about how I had stayed by his side every step of the way. I went back to that nail salon the day before I left to take Jason's ashes back to Boston. The woman remembered me, and knew when I walked in there alone that Jason had died. She didn't say anything at first, but before I got up to leave, she came around the table and gave me a hug. It was one of the most touching experiences, and one I'll never forget.

Back to the 21st. It was a Thursday, and we spent most of the morning at the hospital. I can't recall exactly, but I think Jason only needed a couple things, and we were on schedule to meet with the Hospice worker at the house that afternoon. It was also the day that Jason's parents were arriving - to stay until it was over. They got to the house about the same time as the hospice worker. Jason was very coarse with his parents and sent them to the backyard while he and I worked out the details with hospice. He didn't want his parents involved in that - I think more to protect them than anything else. We sat with the guy at the dining room table while Jason filled out the paperwork and answered questions. After he left, we filled his parents in on everything.

Jason talked to his parents about wanting to throw a party for himself the next weekend. He likened it to the movie "It's My Party" where they guy has a party for himself to say goodbye to everyone the night before he dies. None of us knew how fast things would go, so a party seemed like a good idea. We went to bed that night talking about it, laughing, and thinking about how fun it would be.

Seven Days Left

In A Year...

2010-05-21T00:37:00.000-05:00

Have you ever stopped to think what you've done in a year's time? What have you accomplished in 12 months? Are you proud of what you've done? Is there something you wanted to do but didn't get the chance?

As we enter Friday the 21st, I'm left thinking about everything that's happened in the last year...leading up to next Friday - the one year anniversary I've been dreading. I feel like so much has happened in this last year, but on the other hand...I feel like it's only been a month. I've read that - for many widow(er)s - the first year after their spouses death is often a blur. They only do whats necessary to live daily life and get by.

Before Jason died, we had several conversations about what life would be like for me after he was gone. He was quite concerned (as was I for that matter), that I would lapse into a depression and forget to live. I had already given up so much to be with him and take care of him, something he scolded me for often. He was afraid that I would give up even more when he died.

When that day came, I stood at a crossroads. In one direction, there was sadness, and depression. I began to take a few steps down that road in the weeks after he died. But then, something changed in me. It was like a fog lifted...more like shifted ever so slightly. I was able to see a glimpse of what lie ahead, and I didn't like it. I didn't like it because I knew Jason was watching my every move, upset with me because I had promised I wouldn't go down that road. Things needed to change, and they did. I slowly worked my way back up to that crossroads and then made a turn went down the other road.

So, looking back... what have I done in the year since I lost the love of my life? I must say, as I take stock of the last year, I've actually surprised myself a bit. In June, just weeks after Jason died, I created Team Jason for the Light The Night Walk and over the next 4 months we raised $11,000 for lymphoma research. In September - four months after he died - I was nominated for an Emmy Award (my 6th nomination), and the next month, I won (my first win). I carried my Emmy at the Light The Night Walk which was held the very next night. I traveled to Boston, New York, and San Diego. I've held down my job and the job of 2 other people singlehandedly, and I've kicked some ass...if I do say so myself. I bought a boat (half of one, anyway...) and spent a good chunk of last summer on the water. I decorated my apartment. I started reading again...a lot. I started this blog. I met many amazing people, including two widows that have become very dear friends. I turned 30...and actually had fun at my party (though my mind did wander to Jason often).

I'm sure there's more that I'm not thinking of, but hey, looking at that list, I'd say it was a pretty banner year. Looking at it on "paper", I actually start smiling. I've really done a lot this year that I'm proud of, maybe even more than I've done in previous years. So why then, in this week before the devastating anniversary, am I wishing that I could give all of that happiness back for even just one more minute with Jason? I've said it before, and I'll say it again... it's just not fair.

Until next time --
Stuart

Back On Six

2010-05-19T00:52:00.000-05:00

Today was a very interesting, sad, and memorable day. A dear friend of mine - who has been battling breast cancer for more than two years - was hospitalized yesterday. Hearing that news so close to this upcoming monster of an anniversary was almost too much to bear.

I met Leah through work. We actually profiled her fight against breast cancer for a story. Jason and I laid together on his couch and watched the first report that aired. We both remarked at what an incredible woman she is, and how she was facing her fight with courage and determination. This was three months before Jason died. My colleagues and I continued to follow Leah and her treatments over the next few months, and decided to do a follow-up report on her in November (Click here to see the report).

Leah has become a friend, and I stay up to date on what's going on with her. Things have not been going well for her lately and she's been going through quite a few blood & platelet transfusions, and numerous rounds of chemo. That's why my heart leapt into my throat yesterday when I saw she posted on Facebook that she was back in the hospital. I knew I had to go see her the next day, so a co-worker who had helped produce Leah's stories and I made arrangements to pay her a visit.

I knew Leah was being treated at Baylor, so I knew that she would be hospitalized there. I also knew that there was a chance that she'd be housed on the very same floor where Jason had been cared for half a dozen times throughout his illness. What I didn't know is that walking back onto that floor would have such an impact on me. I had been back to the hospital several times since he died. I went to the outpatient cancer center to visit his chemo nurses, and even shot a few stories at the hospital itself. I enjoyed going back to visit the nurses, as they were like family to us. However, this was the first time that I'd be going back to the place where Jason spent so many nights.

Stepping off the elevator on the sixth floor, my heart began to beat faster. It was as if only a day had passed since I was there last. The place hadn't changed at all. Everything was as I remembered it. We walked through the door and past the nurses station on our way to Leah's room - 605. In the back of my mind, I wondered "Did Jason stay in this room?" My question was answered the second I walked in...he had. Leah is sleeping in the very same bed that Jason had been in some time ago. It was everything I had in me not to break down crying right then and there.

Seeing Leah was tough. She's visibly changed by what she's been going through, and her demeanor is different. Moments after we arrived, she began asking me questions about Jason's memorial service, planning, etc. She asked about the urn we selected for him, and expressed that she wanted to design her own urn. Normally, talking about this stuff wouldn't bother me - having been there before. But, sitting in that room, looking at her in that bed...it was an extremely difficult conversation. I left an hour later and spent the drive back to work crying my eyes out.

12 months ago on May 19th, we were dealing with getting Jason's affairs in order. We were preparing to meet with Hospice and get that started, and we were just a couple days away from welcoming his parents in for the long haul...a haul that only lasted 1 week. A week from Friday, it was all over. I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that it's been a year. How can so much time have passed when it still hurts so much? How can so much time have passed when I can still recall every detail of those last few days?

It just doesn't seem real.

Until next time --
Stuart

Letters To God

2010-05-05T00:36:00.000-05:00

Tonight - as if I didn't need another reason to cry - I went to see the movie "Letters To God" with my friend Casey. I knew the premise of the movie before going in tonight... hell, even the preview made me cry. Casey and several others even wondered if it was a good idea for me to be watching this movie this week. What can I say? I'm an emotional cutter, and I knew it would give me a release I needed. And boy did it.

Overall, it was a good movie. The acting left a lot to be desired, but above all of that, the story - the script was amazing. It was extremely touching, and very real. Despite the fact that I'm a non-practicing Jew, even I was able to take-away some of the God-bearing message this movie carried. It was heavy on the Jesus side at times, but apart from that, it's religious message has the ability to metaphorically reach across the pews to other faiths.

If you haven't heard about the film, in a nutshell - it's about a little boy who is battling an aggressive form of brain cancer. There are several sub-plots involving his mother, brother, and mail carrier who all get wrapped up in Tyler's (the boy with cancer) letters to God. Those letters transform everyone who reads them and spreads through the entire community. It really is very touching. More than touching, though. It's inspiring. It's inspired me to want to write my own letter to God, and even if you haven't seen it - whether you have a relationship with God or not - I hope it might inspire you to write one of your own.

Dear God:
I've tried to understand why you've done what you've done in my life the last two years. You've certainly thrown a lot of things in my direction... most of which I think I've handled fairly well. I understand that everything happens for a reason, and it's that reason I'm trying to figure out.

For instance, what reason would you have for bringing a wonderful man into my life - give him an incurable disease, and then take him out of my life just as quickly as he entered? For months I've pondered this. I've spent countless hours thinking about it. Obviously there was something you wanted me to gain, to learn from this entire situation. Maybe it was to be more humble. Maybe it was to be more appreciative of life itself. Maybe it was to ignite my passion for charity. Maybe it was to teach me what true love feels like, and what true pain and loss feels like.

If those are the lesson you expected me to learn, then I can honestly say "Mission Accomplished, Sir!" I am without a doubt more humble in my life since Jason died, and because of that, I am much more appreciative of the life I have been given by you. My time in the cancer trenches with Jason has most definitely ignited a passion for charity that will continue the rest of my life, so check on that one. And because of the amazing man you put in my path, I've definitely learned what true love feels like. And because you took the amazing man with whom I fell in love away from me, I've felt true pain and loss. But, something tells me there's still more I need to learn from this entire thing. What that is, I don't know.

It is my hope, God, that you'll soon make that clear. It is my hope that I will be able to learn everything I need from this situation and move on because frankly, I can't hold on to this much longer. God, you gave me so much in my 29 years of life on this Earth, and in just two short years, you've also taken away so much. I've never been angry with you, though. I may have questioned why, but I have never once been angry or turned my back on you. Instead, all I've asked of you, time and time again, is that you open my eyes and allow me to see what I'm supposed to see, learn what I'm supposed to learn, and accept what I need to accept and move forward on whatever new path you set before me.

God, I know you and I don't talk as often as we should...and that's most definitely my fault. I suppose I should be better about that. But, as I suspect, you already know what's in my heart, in my soul. I only wish now that you will guide me as I continue on my path to healing, and that you will continue to guide me in my life as I move into the next phase of my life.

Before I go, I'd like to take a moment to thank you. Thank you, God, for putting your faith and trust in me to handle what you've put in front of me. Thank you for bringing that wonderful man into my life - however short our time was. As cliche as it is, it's entirely true. I would rather have two years of love and happiness with Jason than a lifetime without. So, thank you again for that. Thank you, also, for the amazing support system you've given me - my incredible friends who have stood by my side through thick and thin. Thank you for my family who actually loves me for who I really am. Thank you for blessing me with an exceptional career that's given me so many unbelievable opportunities of which some people only dream. And finally, but above all else, thank you for blessing me with 30 amazing years of life (and hopefully many more to follow). I only hope I'm doing enough with it to make you proud.

Goodnight God.

Until next time--
Stuart

Do You Really Know?

2010-05-04T00:12:00.000-05:00

I had an interesting conversation with some friends over dinner the other night. Actually, I've had this conversation a few times since Jason died. It's an important conversation, and one I've never written about. So let's talk.

When Jason died, there were a lot of things that had to be done in a very short amount of time. Most importantly, the planning of the memorial service in Dallas. There really wasn't much of a plan, per se...that is until I was standing there with a microphone in my hand welcoming everyone on that beautiful Saturday. What transpired over the next nearly two hours was incredible, though. I joked afterwards that I couldn't have produced it better had I tried.

The thing that was so great about the service was that there was someone there representing every aspect of Jason's life. His parents were there to represent his childhood. His college friends were there. His first work buddies were there. His gay friends were there. His Lone Star Ride family was there. His work family was there. His best friends were there. Hell...even some people from the oncology team who treated him showed up. There was about 150-200 people there in all. It truly was a mind-blowing sight.

What happened next was even more incredible, though. One by one, people got up and spoke about what an amazing person Jason was. They spoke about how he touched their lives - even in the slightest way - and how he meant so much to them. There were some he hadn't spoken to in months, even years... but it didn't matter. The impact was there. His parents and I talked after the service and joked that we learned things about him there that we had never known... and maybe for the first time, his parents learned what a truly amazing person their son was.

But, what killed me about that beautiful sight - all those wonderful things people said about him... what hurt the most was that he wasn't there to hear it himself. Oh, I'm sure you're thinking "he was there" and "he heard it all". But, don't you think it would've meant more, had more impact had he heard it for himself when he was alive? It got me thinking... as a society, why are we so afraid to tell those around us how we feel about them? Why do we hide our feelings? Why do we hide our praise for others? Why do we keep our pride from our friends, family, and other loved ones?

Do you know what people really think about you? Do you know what kind of impact you've had on someone else's life? Have you been told lately how much you mean to someone - your partner/spouse or otherwise? If you can't answer yes to all of these questions, then there is something wrong. How do we fix that? I don't know, but maybe it starts with us. Maybe it starts with us taking charge of our feelings and becoming more open to divulging how we feel. We should all live like we're speaking at a funeral - as odd as that sounds. But it's true. Live and speak freely to people as if you were speaking at their funeral. Tell them how you really feel about them and stop hiding behind your heart. Let them know before it's too late. Let them know so they have the pleasure of hearing it, taking it in, and letting it fill them with the kind of warmth that only comes from that kind of love.

Right here, right now - I pledge to tell everyone in my life - anyone who has had an impact on me - exactly how I feel about them. Will you join me and take the same pledge?

Until next time --
Stuart

5 Days Left

2010-05-03T00:30:00.001-05:00

There are just five days left of my 20s. There are just 5 days left of the 29th year of my life. And what a year it has been.

This time last year, I had been through the ringer. Jason had been through the ringer. Together, we were exhausted, crushed, beaten, and tired of fighting. The only thing we had was each other, our love, and the knowledge that someday - unfortunately very soon...days, weeks even - it would all be over. Most of you have never known what this feels like, and I pray you never will. This time last year - when I should have been preparing to celebrate my last year in my 20s, I was dealing with a will, an advanced directive, power of attorney questions, estate issues, and above all that - trying to keep Jason as comfortable as possible while his cancer continued to grow inside him.

The day before my birthday, Jason was in an extreme amount of pain. We had gone to bed the evening of the 6th, and he was unsettled. He was hurting, and the pain only continued to grow throughout the night. He took pills, I put Fentanyl patches all over his body, but nothing helped. By 5am, neither of us had slept a wink, and it had become clear that his pain was not going to subside. I made a call to the on-call doctor, and then off we went to the hospital. He was admitted to the oncology ICU, and they immediately started IV pain medications. A few hours later, he was drugged, I was tired...and off I went to work.

I came back immediately after work, obviously, and stayed until I couldn't stay anymore. The next day was Friday...my birthday, and we spent it in that Oncology ICU room hoping that he'd be released the next day. He was feeling much better, and was so concerned that I was spending my birthday in a hospital...nevermind the fact that it didn't matter where I was...I just wanted to be with him. Earlier that day, he apparently had begged his doctor and nurses to make sure he was released either that night or first thing Saturday morning. I didn't know he had done that, nor did I know what he had planned on Saturday and why it was so important for him to get out of the hospital in time. He did, and I'm so glad because that Saturday has become one of the best memories I have of him.

In the face of dying - literally being stalked by death, Jason put aside his pain... he put aside whatever fear he had, and he focused on me. He treated me to one of the most amazing birthdays. He had arranged for a gigantic suite at the brand new Omni Hotel in Fort Worth, along with a day at the spa which included champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a couples massage that we both so desperately needed. For just a few hours, we were both able to forget that cancer was ruining our lives. For just a few hours, we were allowed to be just us, just together, just alone with each other...without cancer. It was the best birthday, and it will forever be the most special time I spent with Jason.

So, this week as my 30th birthday approaches, I will be thinking a lot about those days last year, but I will try my best not to dwell on them. I know I need to focus on looking forward to celebrating a new decade in my life, and take comfort in knowing that Jason will be there...celebrating right alongside me. I know I'll feel him, I know he'll be there...but it's just not the same. It's just not fair! It's not fair that the love of my life was able to surprise me with an amazing 29th birthday, and then not be here to do the same for my 30th. It's not fair that on Saturday morning, the very morning I turn 30, I won't be waking up to see his face lying next to me, but instead I'll be thinking about what could have been, what should have been.

Here's to 30.

Until next time...
Stuart

Another Month Passes

2010-04-27T23:27:00.000-05:00

In just under one hour, it will be April 28th...marking 11 months since Jason was stolen from us by cancer. It's hard to think that in just four more short weeks, we'll be marking the one-year anniversary at his graveside in the Boston area. My how time flies.

It's been a busy month since my last entry. I've worked a lot, I've gone out a lot... I've had fun a lot, and I've cried a lot. It's been a pretty typical month, actually. Hence why I haven't written much. I suppose there was one big thing that happened. On April 10th, I hosted a fundraiser, art show, & auction to raise money for Team Jason 2010. We raised nearly $6,000 bring our year-to-date total to just under $8,000. 31% of our goal raised...69% left to go!

Time is starting to run together now. I only know it's been 11 months because I know that next month marks 12. But it's all starting to blur...which I guess is a good thing. The more it blurs, the less I notice the date...the less I hurt. This month, I didn't realize the 28th was approaching tomorrow until just a few hours ago. I almost got away with treating the 28th just like any other day without Jason.

Instead, I'll be waking up early tomorrow to meet my friend Casey at Founders Plaza at DFW Airport - one of Jason's favorite places to go. I've purchased a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a wonderful card (that's eerily exactly what I've been thinking) that I'll leave there at the Plaza. I wrote a nice note inside the card, and will leave that with the flowers. I hope someone finds it, reads it...and learns a little bit about love and how death & loss will never tear it apart.

Until next time --
Stuart

10 Months

2010-03-29T00:01:00.000-05:00

It's been more than a month since my last entry. I haven't blogged much because frankly, there hasn't been much to talk about...which is a good thing, I think. I began feeling like by constantly writing on here, I was somehow holding onto the past. I decided I would give it a rest until I had something to say. So, I guess that's now.

Today marks the 10 month anniversary of Jason's death. I promised myself several months ago that I would try to let the 28ths pass without much notice, but 3 months after that promise was made, I can say that I haven't done a very good job. This one especially. I don't know what it is about this one more than the others, but damn it this one hurts... a lot.

For the last few days, I've been in San Diego, California vacationing with some very dear friends. Booking the trip and getting here, I never even gave it a second thought that I'd be here on the 28th. It wasn't until I saw the date this morning that it hit me. Seeing that date is like a knife being jabbed into my heart...no matter what month it is. The 28th will forever be the day Jason died.

I've been in a funk all day which angered me since I'm here on vacation. I tried my best all day not to drag my friends down with me... I hope I succeeded. I waited until I was in the shower before I broke down. I had a good cry while I let the water wash over me. It felt good to cry. I haven't done that in a couple weeks. But, after I got out of the shower, I tried so hard not to cry the rest of the day...though I tell you, I was on the verge of tears most of the day. There were things I'd see walking down the street that would remind me of Jason - a french bulldog (the dog we were planning to get), a piece of art I knew he'd like, a frog (read previous post about seeing the medium)... the list goes on and on.

I've had such a GREAT trip with my friends, and I'm so upset that on our last day here I felt like I was walking underneath a rain cloud for most of the day. I'm so tired of this effecting my life, and at this point, I'm longing to hit that year mark so that I can never say "This is the first....". Once we hit May 28th...there will be no more firsts. As much as it hurts me to know that more time is passing without the man I love still so much to this day, I want time to pass quickly so that I can move on with my life.

Until next time --

Stuart

Smacked By Grief

2010-02-21T12:33:00.000-06:00

It's been a fairly long time since I had a really good cry and breakdown over losing Jason. It's been a couple months, probably. Since Christmas, I guess. But that streak ended last night. I went out to dinner with some friends and then went to see Valentine's Day (the movie). I knew I was going to cry at the movie...these kinds of movies always make me cry. But, I had no idea that it would make me cry as much as I did.

First thing that happened - while watching the previews...2 of the movies that were previewed are coming out on May 28th... which is the day Jason died. Seeing that date on the big screen almost made my heart stop. I got passed that when the movie started. One of the first scenes... the character's name... JASON! Ugh! Then, a few scenes later, that very same character recites a poem. If you've read my earlier blogs, you know there's one particular poem that means a lot to me. Guess what... IT WAS THAT FREAKIN' POEM! And one final connection... during on particular scene, a little dog ran into the room. It was a french bulldog...the very dog that Jason and I were talking about adopting. Of all the breeds and varieties of dogs...THAT's the one they show in the movie? Really?!

There were just too many coincidences, too many reminders...too much talk about love. On my way home, I completely broke down crying. I cried the entire 30 minute drive, and then even more when I got home. I had to feel him, smell him. I pulled out one of his shirts...and amazingly, even nine months after he died, it still smells like him. I held it tightly, smelling it, for hours. I fell asleep with it in my arms, and woke up with it laying next to me 10 hours later.

I miss him so much it hurts. I miss his smile, his beautiful blue eyes, his sarcasm, his touch, his laugh...I miss everything. I had been doing fine...I had been doing great...and last night, I was slapped in the face by grief...and it HURT!

Until next time --
Stuart

First Funeral Since...

2010-02-15T15:21:00.000-06:00

I took an unusual day off today - during ratings - to attend a double funeral for my brother's best friends/neighbors. Matt & Erica Rawley died suddenly last weekend from carbon monoxide poisoning while they were out camping. It's such a tragically sad story.

This was also the first funeral I've attended since the funeral/memorial for Jason. I made it almost 9 months between funerals. I had pretty mixed emotions all morning while I was getting ready...wasn't really sure how I would react before, during, and after the service. I knew Matt & Erica pretty well, not as well as Jason obviously, but we'd spent several Thanksgiving and July 4th holidays together. They were practically family.

Walking into the service, my heart started to race. That point when I rounded the corner and saw the room full of people already sitting in the pews...my heart actually leapt into my throat. I was immediately transported back to May 30th - the day of Jason's memorial service...turning the corner and seeing the room packed. Almost lost it then, almost lost it today. We took our seats towards the back, and the service started about 15 minutes later with a song - The Wind Beneath My Wings. Hello tears.

The service was a good mix of sad moments along with joyfully filled bursts of laughter. Matt & Erica were a wonderful couple, very funny...so there was no shortage of hilarious antics and sayings. In all, I'd say the service lasted about an hour which wasn't bad. I cried some, but not as much as I thought I would. I really expected that I would be a basketcase...but luckily that wasn't the case.

I'm not a fan of funerals... who is? But, after Jason's, I never thought I'd want to go to another one. After you've buried the love of your life, why would you ever want to relive that moment? I think I realized today, though, that like grief - every funeral is different...and that is a good thing.

Until next time --
Stuart

Winter Wonderland

2010-02-12T14:48:00.000-06:00

Dallas Fort Worth has become a winter wonderland! We received 12'' of snow yesterday, making it the snowiest day EVER in the metroplex and breaking 111 year old records! It was absolutely incredible to see it all coming down hour after hour. Luckily, though, the roads stayed pretty safe. There was fear that everything would freeze this morning, but the roads were pretty passable and work continues as normal.

I haven't blogged much in the last couple weeks mainly because there hasn't been much to blog about. My life of late has consisted of work and sleep. I've been completely slammed at work - doing the jobs of 4 different people...ALONE. It hasn't been fun, but I'm getting through, and I'm finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Valentine's Day is this weekend. I've never really been one to celebrate it as a holiday. I've always thought it was a pretty crappy one, in fact. Number one - my grandfather died on Valentines Day back in 1994. So for several years after that, whether I had a significant other or not, I refused to be happy and lovey that day. As I got older, though, the grief from losing my grandfather melted away, but my affinity for V-Day never returned. I just didn't care...and I still don't. To me, it's a meaningless holiday...and has no business being celebrated. But that's just me.

Last year for Valentine's Day, Jason and I went out to dinner at a fabulous restaurant in Dallas. It's called Nick & Sam's. It's one of the premiere steakhouses in town. We had a wonderful evening, and it was one of the first Valentine's Days in recent memory that I actually enjoyed. Of course, I enjoyed most days that I got to spend with him, so why should that time be any different? I think that's why I'm anti-V-Day this year...for obvious reasons. I just want it to be another day. I don't want to get any presents. I'm not going to give any presents. I don't want to get any sappy Valentine's Day cards, and I'm certainly not going to give any. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people whom I love. I just don't feel like I should be required to say it, show it, and flaunt it if I don't want to.

Call me bitter. I probably am to some extent. But, so what? As my friend Amy says... GOI. That stands for "GET OVER IT!"

Until next time --
Stuart

A Fortune Or A Future?

2010-02-02T20:08:00.000-06:00

In my last entry, I discussed the crossroad where I now stand in my job, overall career, and life. I know which way I'm leaning, but I still haven't completely made up my mind. This is probably one of the toughest decisions I've ever had to make.

A few weeks ago, I started meditating. It was suggested during my reading with the medium a few months ago that I begin meditating, and I finally decided to give it a try. One of the things I've learned about meditation is that you can begin to speak about your dreams, putting your wants and desires out there for the universe to hear and see. So, in the last couple weeks, I've been asking for some guidance, a sign that this LLS gig is really something I need to pursue.

Tonight, I think I got a sign. It depends on whether you believe in coincidences or not. I decided to stop and pick up my favorite Chinese dish for dinner tonight. It's been another rotten day, and I needed some comfort food. So, at the end of the very delicious meal, I cracked open my fortune cookie, and this is what was written:

"Your ideas are clever, and you will be rewarded."

That's gotta be a sign right? That's gotta be something or someone trying to give me the guidance I have been meditating about for two weeks now....right? But then it brings up all sorts of other questions... if it's a sign, does it mean I should go after this LLS gig, or by "you will be rewarded" does it mean I should wait until something much more substantial comes along? I think I might be even more confused and unsure of what to do than I was before I opened that cookie.

Until next time --
Stuart

A Career Crossroads

2010-02-01T00:09:00.000-06:00

They say everyone will find themselves at a crossroads at least once in your life. I've been at a crossroads several times. I think, so far, that I've chosen the correct path each time, and it's led me to yet another fork in the road. Yet, this time, I'm having a lot of trouble deciding which fork to take.

I'm a firm believer that everything in life happens for a reason. I believe people are brought in and out of your life for a reason. You're supposed to learn something from everyone in your life whether you know it or not. Jason was brought into my life for a reason. I know that. I believe he entered my life to open my eyes, help me change my priorities, and help me realize that things in my life needed to change. And boy, have they.

3 years ago when I moved to Dallas, I was all about my career. I knew what I wanted, and I had worked so hard to get where I was. Enter Jason. He made me think about my life, about my career and what I wanted. Then the shit hit the fan. He got cancer, and everything changed. He became my world. His disease became my world. Eventually, his death became my world.

Something positive came out of all of it, though. I am now dedicating myself to his memory and raising awareness of the disease through the Light The Night Walk and working with the LLS. We raised a lot of money last year, and this year, we're going to double it. But, it's becoming so much more than that. I want to continue working with the LLS and help them do more to raise awareness. For months now, I've been trying to get out of my current job and get into the public relations industry. I've said that my dream job would be doing media relations and PR for the LLS, of course because the cause is closest to my heart.

That's when I came to the crossroads. One prong of the road would keep me on the path I've been on. I'd continue working in my current job - which of late has been a source of unbelievable misery in my life. I'm completely unhappy in my job, and there is no light at the end of the tunnel. My priorities have change. It's not what I want to do with my life. At all. I want out. I've wanted out. I just need a reason.

Prong number two recently arose. I had a call with the nat'l marketing director for the LLS. We discussed several options that could help bring me on board. Right now, all they could offer me is a contracted "consulting" position. I'm supposed to come up with a proposal, my rates, and responsibilities. Assuming they like it, I could start with them pretty quickly, but only part time...10-15 hours a week. It's not enough to sustain myself as a full time job, but it's too much for me to do while maintaining a full time job. So I can travel down path A and not change a thing, or I can travel down path B and quit my "stable" job with a stable check and benefits, and go into a contract consulting position that's not guaranteed, with fewer hours and less pay with the LLS. Now you see my problem.

Whichever road I choose to take, I need to be 100% committed to it. I need to decide how much of a risk I'm willing to take to seek out my dream job. Is it the right time? Should I wait? What about my happiness...how much should that weigh in on my decision? It's quite the crossroads I've come to, isn't it? Anyone have any suggestions/advice? I'm open to anything.

Until next time --
Stuart

Just Another Day

2010-01-28T21:40:00.000-06:00

January 28th. Thursday. 8 months ago, on a Thursday, my love took his last breath. It's been 8 months. Incredible to me that so much time has passed, yet it still seems like yesterday.

Last month on this date, I blogged about wanting to feel like the 28th was just another day. This month, I got my wish...mostly. I woke up this morning without a thought about what today's date meant. That's not to say I didn't think about Jason. Quite the contrary. I just didn't recognize what the date was. I went about my day - my horrible day for that matter - without giving the date a thought. I looked at the calendar a hundred times today, but never once did I recognize today's date.

It wasn't until I was on my way home tonight...trying to forget about my horrible day that I realized the date. In fact, I was sitting in front of Jason's former home... what was to be my future home... when I realized it was the 28th. I decided on my way home that I wanted to go to the house. I had such an awful day that I just needed to be close to Jason...in some form. I drove directly to the house, and within seconds of sitting there looking at it...lights on inside....blinds closed...did I realize that today is in fact the 28th. My heart skipped a beat. How could I not notice it before now? I guess I got my wish.

It made me sad for a few moments, but then I decided that I didn't need to be sad about the fact that I "forgot" about the date. It's all part of the process. I'm tired of marking the darkest day. Instead, I want to mark the happier ones. I don't want to think about the day he died anymore. I don't want to feel guilty for not remembering the day he died. I'm done with feeling guilty about it.

I'm making a promise to myself for the next 3 months. I will not allow myself to get "memorialize" the 28th until May when it hits 1 year. That's a milestone I'll recognize. Until then, March 28th and April 28th (there's no Feb 28th...i'm lucky) will just be days on the calendar. They won't mean anything. That's something I've gotta do for me. We'll see how it goes.

Until next time --
Stuart

The Second Death

2010-01-19T00:53:00.000-06:00

I did something tonight I haven't done in months...possibly even years. I turned off my television after dinner, turned on some music, and curled up with a new book. I purchased Mitch Albom's latest book "Have A Little Faith" and decided I would read the entire thing tonight. And I did. Four hours and 249 pages. I couldn't put it down.

The book is about Mitch's childhood Rabbi and a request his rabbi has after services one Sunday. The rabbi asks Mitch to do the eulogy at his funeral. Mitch, of course, thinks that it's coming sooner rather than later, but decides he needs to get to know the Rabbi as a man, not just a "Man of G-d". He proceeds to visit him and writes about his visits...just like he did in "Tuesdays With Morrie" (though these meetings were usually on Sunday).

There were many interesting discussions in this book about the Jewish faith, and just faith in general. There were many things that made me question why I've turned away from my heritage and discounted the idea that I'll ever be a "good Jew". But there was one particular section that made me think...about Jason. Mitch asked the Rabbi why people fear death. He answers that we fear death because of the unknown...what's on the other side of life. But he says there's something bigger than that that has people afraid to die. It's the fear of being forgotten: The Second Death.

Albom lays it out, and it's quite true what he says. Yes, people do live on through memories, but eventually we will all go through a second death. Eventually, the stories about us, the memories carried on about us will die with those who've carried them. Eventually, those memories will cease to exist and we will be gone, again. But, is that something to be feared, or something to be accepted as part of the circle of life? That section made me stop for a few minutes and consider Jason, his life, and what's happened since his death.

Jason never knew the impact he had on others. In fact, there were many times when someone tried to pay him a compliment and he'd brush it aside or pass the buck to someone else. I wonder if on some subconscious level, he was letting those accolades linger so that they'd hang around long after he was gone. Either way, his memory is very much still alive today nearly 8 months after he died. It will be many years before Jason's second death occurs. I'll see to that myself.

But then, I started thinking beyond Jason...to myself. I wondered how long it would between my first death and my second death. What would I be remembered for, and by whom? I know only time will tell, but I suppose it's up to me to make sure that no matter how long I live that my life has at least some sort of impact on those around me. Jason did it without knowing he needed to...or maybe he did. I don't know.

What I do know is that when the time comes for me to cross over, Jason will meet me there and my first order of business will be to hug him...a hug for every day we haven't been able to hug. If I play my cards right, that'll be a lot of hugs. It'll be worth it. He gave good hug.

Until next time --
Stuart

A Piece Of Art, A Piece of Jason

2010-01-11T23:26:00.000-06:00

I am on cloud nine right now! I'm so excited. Something happened tonight, and I actually feel like I have a piece of Jason back with me. I actually feel him here. It's INCREDIBLE.

So, you may have read my earlier posting about spending Christmas with Jason's parents. For a present, they gave me a piece of artwork that Jason did when he was 11 years old (1980). It was done the year I was born - which is creepy and sweet all at the same time. LOL Anyway - it was the most awesome gift I've ever received, and I loved it the instant I opened it. Here's how it looked when I got it:

The frame was very simple, just a wood frame that Jason and his dad had built together. It was very sweet. The matting was clearly just a sheet of paper that had a hole cut out of it. I loved it just the way it was.

But when I got home and it arrived (had to ship it back here), I decided that it was just too beautiful and needed to be showcased better. So, I made the decision to get it re-matted and re-framed so that I could properly display it in my apartment. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever image how amazing it would look. I was literally blown away when I picked it up at the framing store tonight. I actually started crying right there in the store. I was just bowled over with emotions. Here's how it looks now.

I hung it up in my apartment as soon as I got home, and immediately felt something. I felt Jason. I felt him here in my apartment for the first time since he was alive and actually here. I feel like I actually have a piece of him here with me now, and it's so incredibly comforting. It's amazing how one thing, one piece of art, can bring so much life, so much feeling into a place.

Anyway, I just had to share his beautiful art with you. I still can't believe that he did it.

Until next time --
Stuart

Back On The Market

2010-01-11T00:56:00.001-06:00

I said it in my last post: 2010 is going to be a year of changes for me. It's going to be a year of picking myself up off the floor, packing away my grief, and moving on. I'm sure some of my friends are already getting tired of me and my new "moving on" mantra, but it's true. I'm making a very conscious effort - like Jason wanted me to - to deal with my grief and pack it away. No, not bury it. Burying it implies that I never dealt with it in the first place. I am dealing with it. I have been dealing with it. I'm not burying it, I'm merely putting it away. I'll still be able to feel it. I'll still know it's there. It just won't fill my entire being like it has these past 8 months.

I took a giganticly huge step in moving on this week. I put myself back out there...back out on the market. It's time. I've greatly missed interacting with another man - on the intimate level. I've missed the excitement, the butterflies of being near someone who I'm attracted to. I've missed the companionship, and frankly...sorry to be so blunt, but damn it, I need to get LAID! LOL I am a man, after all. I have needs. Isn't that what they say?

So, there's this guy. Isn't it fun to start conversations off with that sentence. There's always so much hope and wonder in that one statement. So yeah, there's this guy... Patrick. He and I met online several months ago and have been chatting off and on since then. It was never anything too big until the last couple weeks. Maybe it was my new "moving on" mantra that sparked me to talk more. I don't know. Whatever it was, we started chatting more and more, and then we exchanged phone numbers and took the chatting to a more immediate level. A week later, we decided it was time to meet. We set a date for this past Friday with the intention of having dinner, but he got a little scared and ditched me. I was pretty angry that night, disappointed more than anything. I had psyched myself up so much to be able to do this, and then...nothing.

I ended up having dinner with a friend and going to the movies, so it turned into a pretty great night. I finally heard back from Patrick after midnight. We chatted for a bit and decided to give it one more go on Monday night. However, Sunday night (tonight), I texted to see if he'd be interested in meeting me for coffee, to which he said yes. So, we met, and he was delightful! I had a really good time. We talked, got to know each other... I was wearing my Team Jason hat, and he asked what Team Jason was. I gave him the 2 sentence short version: Jason was my partner who passed away from cancer 8 months ago, and we raised money in his memory for the Light the Night walk. Period. I didn't go into it further, and he didn't ask anything else...and I'm fine with that for now. It's not really first date material anyway.

But the point of this whole story is... I'M DATING AGAIN! And you know, it felt good to be out there with him tonight. Before you judge me and question my love for Jason (as I'm sure a few of you will), let me say this. I'm no where near ready for a full-on relationship. I AM ready to date, though. I'm ready to feel that attraction again. I'm ready for that companionship. I'm ready for the fun, excitement, and drama dating brings to life. I now believe that I can have all of those things without a full-on boyfriend/boyfriend relationship. Well, at least it's worth a try. We'll see what happens.

Until next time --
Stuart

Taking Steps in 2010

2010-01-04T22:43:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year to you all. I hope everyone had fun ringing in the New Year and that you've all recovered from that fun. Me...it took about 2 full days before I felt like myself again. Gawd I LOVE New Years! LOL

So, I made a decision today as 2010 gets underway. I decided that it's time to not live my life based on my grief. I'm going to regain control of my life and slowly begin to pack my grief into the box that it will stay in for the rest of my life. I'll never be able to "toss" my grief away. I'll always carry it with me forever, but in my heart, I know it's time to start packing it away.

When I returned to work after Jason's death, my first order of business when I signed onto my computer was to place his picture on my desktop, so that every morning when I signed in, I would see his face. It's been that way for the last seven months. Today, I took it off. No longer will I be greeted by his smiling face on my computer. It felt weird, but I felt like it was a necessary step. I have a feeling there will be times when I put the picture back on there for a time here and a time there. I'm ok with that. I'll allow myself to do that. But, in the long run, the picture will be gone.

This evening, when I came home, I took one more step...a similar one on my personal computer. Since his death, I've had the same screen saver... a slideshow of pictures of Jason. His face parades across the screen in various snapshots. They'll sometimes catch my eye when I'm watching TV and it's almost like I just saw him sitting next to me. Tonight, no more. The screen saver has been changed. I've let go a little more.

To be honest with you, the actions I took today were actually a little empowering. I don't look at it like I was removing Jason from my life. I look at it like I'm taking control of my grief and not letting it control me. Two small steps, but those will lead to bigger ones. Jason's name is still in my IM messenger list. Jason's "card" is still in my contacts list. His phone number is still in my cell phone (this will be the hardest to do). Those are each another step that I'll be taking over the next few months in my promise to myself to get control back.

I'm setting the one year anniversary as my goal to gain control. I feel like if I can get to that point and I have full control, I'll be doing good. I think I'll fall back a little after that last "first", but if I'm as far ahead as I want to be, I think I'll be able to pick myself up quicker. This is the producer side of me taking over. I'm producing my way through my grief up until May 28, 2010, and then I'll allow for some backwards movement. I think it's a good plan. You may disagree, but this is how I have to move forward. 2010 is going to be about moving forward. I refuse to look back. Jason wouldn't want me to, and frankly, I don't want me to.

Until next time --
Stuart

Goodbye and Good Riddance to 2009

2009-12-31T10:07:00.000-06:00

It's finally over. This incredibly difficult, awful, sad year is finally drawing to a close. I never thought it would end. But, in the same breath, I can't believe it's actually ending so soon. Weird...I know.
Last year at this time, I was sitting at home with Jason. He had just gone through surgery to remove the tumor, so we had just gotten home from the hospital a few days before this and we were very much in a celebratory mood. Because of the surgery, though, we couldn't really do much for NYE other than stay at home. We went shopping for some appetizer items and then had a few friends over to ring in the new year. It was a quiet affair, but a wonderful one nonetheless. My favorite part...kissing those beautiful lips at the stroke of midnight.

That's why my heart hurts today...still 14 hours before the new year. I won't be able to kiss that beautiful man this year at the stroke of midnight. I won't be able to feel his arms around me as we hug and hope for good things in the coming year. That first hug and kiss ringing in 2009 had so much hope surrounding it. 2009 was supposed to be OUR year. It was supposed to be the year that our relationship blossomed. It was supposed to be the year that we merged our lives into one. It was supposed to be the year that he beat cancer. Our relationship did blossum, but we were just a week shy of merging our lives into one before cancer beat him. I guess one out of three is better than none. But, it's just not fair.

2009 held a few good things, though, that shouldn't go unnoticed. It was definitely a big award-winning year. I won an Emmy Award, an Edward R. Murrow Award, a National Headliner Award, and a few other small ones. We raised $11,000 for TEAM JASON and the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society becoming the #1 team in Dallas and #3 team in the state. We're already close to $10,000 ahead of the game for 2010! My station won it's first ever 10pm ratings period in November...which I'm extremely proud to be a part of. It's a pretty great accomplishment when you consider where we were a year ago.

I've met some incredible people throughout this year. Most of them are in the cancer world, and have been a huge support to me through all of this. A few of them, fellow widows, have become a truly amazing friends in a very short amount of time. One of them says I was placed in her life for a reason, but I think the same can be said for her in my life. I'm extremely thankful to have their support on this journey, and I think that's one of my greatest things of 2009.

So, as we count down to 2010 tonight, I will take a few moments to remember, but only a few moments. New Year's Eve is all about looking forward to the year to come...not about where you've been. I want to remember where I've been, but I also want to hold my head high and be filled with hope that 2010 is going to be the GREAT year that I deserve. I'm turning 30 in 2010. I hope to land a new job in 2010. TEAM JASON will be more successful in 2010. I'll get my passport in 2010, and finally take that trip to London I've always wanted to do. I'm going to spend more time for ME in 2010...something I haven't done in many, many years.

My friends, I wish you all the best for 2010. I know many of you reading this have had rough years in 2009. But, let's rejoice together tonight...knowing that there's only good things ahead of us. Be safe tonight in whatever you do and start 2010 off right!

I love you all.

Happy New Year --
Stuart

My Relationship With Grief

2009-12-28T00:29:00.000-06:00

I learned a little bit about my relationship with grief tonight. It's something that I didn't know I knew, but in talking with my friend Casey, I realized it.

Five minutes from now, it will be December 28th. It will be 7 months to the day that Jason passed away. However, until 3 hours ago when I was reminded what tomorrow's date meant, I didn't think of tomorrow as anything but Monday. The date didn't occur to me, and I didn't think about the significance of the 28th. I'm sure it would've hit me at some point when I saw the date written down on an email or something. But, it struck me that I hadn't been obsessing about the date like I have all previous 28ths since May.

It made me think about grief like a budding relationship. You know when you first start a relationship, you're so excited that you count all the little anniversaries for a while. You count the weeks, then the first few months. But, by six months, you kind of lose track and after that, the only anniversaries that really matter are the years. I feel like that's the way I am with grief now. We had a new relationship that started on May 28th. You can even see in my first blogs that I tracked it by weeks, then by months. It kinda fits.

I guess this means that I'm becoming comfortable in my relationship with grief. Perhaps the "honeymoon period" we all go through in new relationships is over. Now we can get down to the nitty gritty of our relationship and find out what makes each other truly tick. That will help when it comes time to sever ties and break it off...whenever that may happen. Knowing your enemy inside and out only makes you smarter and stronger to kill it.

I told Casey tonight that I'm tired of living my life from 28th to 28th. For once, I just want the 28th to be another day...not the date that marks the anniversary of the darkest time in my life. I didn't forget about that date. Last week, it was staring at me from my calendar, and I made sure that I booked the day up full of work so I would keep my mind occupied. To me on the outside, it's going to be like any other day. On the inside, though, I'll know.

Until next time --
Stuart

Christmas Day Has Come And Gone

2009-12-25T21:05:00.000-06:00

Well, it came, and now it's gone...almost. There's still a few hours left.

It was Christmas Day like none of us ever wanted to spend. Together...without Jason. We all woke up with a timid feeling about the day. Its tradition for the Harmons to break open the stockings first thing, and then enjoy eggs benedict for breakfast, followed by a hurried opening of the rest of the presents. So we did everything according to plan.

In my stocking - which was Jason's stocking, by the way - were two frogs (Jane knows the significance...since the medium talked about frogs), and a couple other various things. I should also note that as we were opening our stockings, there was music in the background. And lo and behold, what should come on? FELIZ NAVIDAD. I announced to the others that Jason was most definitely here with us.

Breakfast was delicious, and then it was time for presents. I had already given mine. I paid for the framing of the Team Jason shirt autographed by the Ugly Betty staff. I also created a photo book of Team Jason at the Light The Night Walk. In return, I received two very sentimental things. One of them was a beautiful figurine called "Heart of Gold". It's a little boy holding a heart of gold close to his chest. The saying attached to it says "You will always have my heart." I, of course, burst into tears after I was told that this was from Jason. Of course, it wasn't REALLY from Jason, but that didn't matter. It was from him. The second present that sent me into a tizzy is probably the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. It's a beautiful drawing/painting of a ship that Jason did himself back in 1980 - the year I was born. He would've been 10 or 11 at the time. At the bottom, it even says "Jason '80". I'll attach a picture below.

Holding this piece of art, this thing that he created with his own two hands was just the icing on the cake. And what's funny - I received a message the day before from my widow-friend Casey who had received a piece of art from her dead husband's family that he had drawn in grade school. I think it's incredible that we both received these gifts. And what's even weirder...is that in my session with the medium, she brought up receiving art, seeing art, and having art. I wonder if that's what all of this meant now. Something to ponder, I suppose.

Anyway, after the last presents were opened, we relaxed and cleaned up a bit. Ron and I decided to venture over to the cemetery to see Jason. Jane stayed behind. She couldn't handle it. Ron and I stood there at his grave and both of us were overcome with emotion. On this holiday he loved so much, it felt incredibly sad that he was not there with us in the flesh. After a short time, we retreated to the car and sat there for a moment trying to regain our composures. However, not 1 minute after arriving back at the house, I was sobbing in the arms of Jason's mother screaming "It's just not fair!" I quickly calmed down after realizing it was not in good form to be standing in this woman's kitchen bawling my eyes out on her shoulder. This was her son, after all. She should be the one using MY shoulder...which she did later.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. It's now 10pm, and we're all in our respective rooms getting ready for bed. I leave here tomorrow afternoon (hopefully with all this crappy weather). It'll be a bittersweet goodbye. I've had a wonderful time here this trip, but I probably won't be back here until the end of May to observe the 1 year anniversary. Hard to believe that's just 5 months away. It's quite amazing how fast time goes by. Quite sad, too.

Until next time --
Stuart
Here's the picture of Jason's artwork:

Merry Christmas, My Love

2009-12-24T23:51:00.000-06:00

It's 11pm on the east coast...in one hour, it'll be Christmas. It was one of Jason's favorite holidays...if not THE favorite.

Being here in his childhood home...without him...it's really hitting home for me. Tonight, his parents hosted their annual Christmas Eve Neighborhood Block Party...an event Jason always looked forward to. Our first year together, I remember watching and hearing how excited he got as Christmas drew closer. He looked forward to coming home so he could plan out a menu, cook, and then entertain all his old childhood friends and neighbors. He loved it, and came home afterwards with a renewed sense of himself.

Tonight, I was here in his place. Physically, anyway. It was very much evident that Jason was here with us tonight. Nothing happened particularly to clue us in, but it was evident in the stories people told about him...stories of Christmases past...stories of shenanigans and other misdeeds. We laughed, a few of us cried a little. I almost felt like I was sitting back watching a movie play out before my eyes... as if Jason was still here. I pictured him moving around the room serving drinks, food, and making small talk with people he only sees once a year. I pictured him coming over and sitting next to me on the couch...putting his arm around me, or putting his hand on my leg. He'd whisper things into my ear...little naughty tidbits about the people in the room, and we'd share a laugh together and steal away a kiss while no one was paying attention.

But instead, I sat alone in a room full of people I barely knew. But, it was comforting in a strange way...I had Jason's past sitting right before me. These people watched him grow from a baby into the man I fell in love with. That's why I felt like he was here with us tonight. The major points of his life were represented in that room, and it was a beautiful thing.

So, as Christmas day draws closer by the minute, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas. Hug your loved ones a little tighter, and hold on a little longer. You never know what can happen in the year to come. Don't take your life for granted. That's something I've learned from Jason.

Merry Christmas, my love. I hope your present to me is a visit tonight in my dreams. I'd love to see you, hug you, hold you, and kiss you again. I couldn't think of a better gift.

Until next time--
Stuart
P.S. - I'd like to wish Charissa & Casey a Merry Christmas, as well. You both have been amazing to me these last seven months. You've been my counsel, my confidants through this whole ordeal. I think we were each brought into each others lives for a purpose...to help each other through this. Charissa, I thank G-d that Kairol posted that article of yours that day. It's what brought you into my life. And Casey, I'm so lucky to have met you. I'm so glad that I've been able to help you through this most horrible time. I'm glad I've been able to offer you some guidance, even though I really have no clue what I'm doing myself. The three of us are on this journey together. And while we're each in different spots, we all have one thing in common...we all loved our significant others so much...and we all continue to miss them so much every single day.

He's Here With Me

2009-12-23T21:39:00.000-06:00

Jason is here with me. I know he is. I felt him here, and it made me laugh.

We spent most of today running errands and doing some shopping. But, there was an hour in the middle of all of that when I stole the car and went to the cemetery alone. I trudged my way through the 7'' of snow that's still on the ground to get to Jason's graveside. I stood there in silence for a few minutes until a breeze began to blow across my face.

That's when I started to cry. That breeze almost felt like the breath of someone standing next to me, and for a split second, I looked to see if anyone was there. There was no one. I spoke to Jason and told him how much I miss him. Not a day goes by...no. Not an hour goes by that I don't think of him, miss him, long for him, and love him. He's been gone for nearly seven months yet the love I felt for him the day he died hasn't gone away. It never will. If anything, I'd say it's gotten stronger.

Some might say that's not a good thing. Some might say that the more time that passes from a loved one's death, love shouldn't grow stronger. Sure, it will never go away... but growth might lead one to believe that I'm far from getting over him. So what if I am? Who's right is it to say? No one.

I stood there talking to him for what seemed like an hour. I walked around to the back side of the stone where his name is engraved. I touched it with my hand. I could feel the cold granite through my glove, and it made me cry. I spoke about this in a previous blog when I was here and the stone was just put up. There's something about seeing his name etched into that stone that just kills me. It's so hard to see. It's so hard to look at. Every time I look at it, I have this war in my head...because one half of my mind doesn't believe it and the other half is screaming for the other half to accept it. It still just doesn't seem real.

After about 30 minutes, I couldn't feel my face anymore (It didn't get above 25 today), so I started to leave. I stood in front of his grave one more time and pleaded with him to show me a sign that he's with me on this trip. I told him I needed to know that he's with us...that he's celebrating Christmas with his family. Sobbing by now, I finally turned to leave. I got in the car, switched it on, and I got my sign. As soon as I turned the car on, the song that had been playing on the radio finished and Feliz Navidad came on (Read my previous post about this song).

I heard the first three notes of the song and I immediately began to laugh. I knew that was him. I knew he was saying "Ok, here's your stupid sign." I sat there in the car parked in the cemetery directly in front of his grave and laughed, sang along, and danced in my seat. I knew he was sitting right next to me in that car. The song ended, but I didn't leave. I sat there for another 15 minutes texting some friends a picture I took of his grave (picture below). I said a few more things to him, and then I drove off. No more tears. He's here.

Until next time--
Stuart

He looks festive, doesn't he?

Back in Bean Town

2009-12-22T20:39:00.000-06:00

Hello from Boston. I'm finally over the excitement of my "mile high blog" from earlier. It's the small things in life that bring the most pleasure. LOL :)

Anyway, it was pretty much down to business after I landed. I met up with Jason's dad, Ron, and headed for Hudson. We had a pretty good chat on the drive in. We talked about his work, my work, Jason...and we talked about my psychic/medium reading from a couple weeks ago. Jane (Jason's mom) had filled him in on just a few points about it, so I gave a few more details. I'm not sure he was entirely sold on it, but I'm vowing to continue working on him. I think Jane really wants to do it, but won't without Ron.

So, after lunch, Ron and I drove to the cemetery to see Jason. There's a beautiful blanket...or really a down comforter of snow on the ground. There's about 8-10'' still covering parts of the area...including the cemetery. So, we didn't get out of the car...as neither of us were wearing the correct footwear to go traipsing through 8'' of snow to get to the grave. But, I was able to say hi and blow him a kiss before we drove away.

Once at the house, our work began. We were charged with beginning the cleaning process and getting the house decorated for the upcoming Christmas Eve Neighborhood Bash they host every year. Apparently everyone (including myself) protested that they were still planning to do it this year, but they didn't listen to anyone. I'm starting to have a change of heart, though, and believe it might actually be a good idea. We each had a few moments today while decorating the tree...something Jason loved to do (at his home...not his parents...they drove each other mad doing this stuff). But, I think these moments NEED to happen in order for everyone to grasp the situation and deal with it.

So for the next day and a half, it will be party central around here. Jason was usually home in time to do all of the cooking because he was quite the amazing chef. So, this year, they've hired a caterer to do the job. We'll be out getting the food, some more presents, and other odds and ends that will be needed (like booze...and lots of it). I'm REALLY glad I'm here for them during this time. I think this is going to help me a lot more than I thought it would...seeing them dealing with their grief head-on and what-not. I think this is all a good step.

Until next time--
Stuart

Flying High

2009-12-22T07:24:00.001-06:00

Its a first for me. I'm blogging from 33,000 feet! In flight wi-fi is the greatest thing!

When I sat down on the plane, I was immediately transported back to April...Easter weekend when Jason and I were taking this very flight heading to Boston. Little did we know it would be his last trip alive.

I sat here remembering every detail I could about him that day. I loved to fly with Jason because he got so excited about it. He was like a little kid. He loved fliying so much, and the excitement was intoxicating. Thinking about it this morning made me smile. I picture him sitting next to me in the window seat glaring out the window trying to figure out what runway we were going to use.

I'm also reminded that as I sit on this plane, someone in Dallas is preparing paperwork for today's closing on Jason's house. Its a bittersweet day. I don't want to see it go, but I do because now I think I can truly begin to slowly let go. The last piece of the puzzle has been put into place, and I can now begin to look at the whole picture.

So, I will say ciao for now...from 33,000 feet above the U.S. So cool! See you in Boston!

Until next time--
Stuart

Influence Lasts Beyond Death

2009-12-21T20:09:00.008-06:00

I had to share this with all of you. It's so amazing, and just makes me beam knowing that the man I love is STILL influencing people from the other side. It's unbelievable.

So, back on May 28th - the day Jason died - I sent an email to our "blast list". It was the list we had been using for months to keep everyone on both of our sides updated on Jason's progress...or lack thereof. One of the many people who responded to my email on the 28th was named Lauren. She wrote some pretty sweet things about Jason...and then ended with this:

"There is no profound reason that I can come to for all of this. But I can tell you that, because of what you and he went through, I registered at the national marrow donor registry. If I ever get the call and a life is saved - it's because of you two. (It's one of those things that I would have thought 'oh, I should do that'...but never would have gotten around to it.) I suppose you could call it a mark of a greatly-lived life: inspiring others to do/be better and benefit others.... "

This afternoon, I got an email from Lauren again that made me completely break down (this is an excerpt):

"Well, a few weeks ago I did get a call that I may be a possible match. It looks great on paper, and now I've gone in to get tissue typed. All I know is that it's a 40 year old man with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia. I'm still awaiting word of whether I am the closest match. Thus far, I haven't heard anything, but I have hope. I can think of no better way to honor my friend than to do this.

Even if it isn't meant to be this time, another call in the future will make me that much more likely to donate (as they will already have done the preliminary tests). It's already a small miracle I received a call just a few months after registering....the woman who took my blood had been on the registry for 12 years, but was never contacted. Hopefully this is just a prelude to something bigger.

As I said, I'd wanted to wait to get a final answer...but if Jason taugh me anything, it's not to wait. So I just wanted to share this with you. And, I'd be grateful if you could share it with his parents as well. If you are anything like me, you may think you still see him or feel him from time to time. This is perhaps the most tangible 'sign' I've had...and the one that has offered the most encouragement as well. I just wanted you to know and share in this part of the journey with me."

Isn't that just one of the most incredible things?! I just can't get over how AWESOME this is. This woman - because of Jason's brave fight - felt inspired to join the registry, and now she might have the chance to save someone else's life! I mean... I just... there aren't words. There just aren't. It's just an incredible feeling to know the man I loved, the man I watched slip away... can still have this unbelievable impact on people's lives. I wish I could just reach out and hug this woman!

Anyway, I just had to share this with all of you. I'm literally beaming with pride tonight. I'm so proud of her, but most of all, I'm proud of Jason for being the inspiration he was...and continues to be for so many people. Truly the mark of an amazing man.

Until next time (next time will be in Boston) --
Stuart

It's Done

2009-12-21T07:29:00.000-06:00

Yesterday at approximately 2:45pm, I stepped out of the house on Dunhaven that I was supposed to be sharing with Jason for the very last time. As I was taking my final walk through - acting like I was checking to see if there was anything left behind - I reminisced about all the times Jason and I spent in each of those rooms. I paused in the master bedroom for a longer moment remembering the conversations we had lying in bed - conversations no couple should ever have to have until much later in life. I moved into the kitchen and then stopped in the dining room. I stood on the very spot where Jason's hospital bed was...the very spot where he took his last breath. That's when I started to cry.

A few tears fell as I took my final steps in that beautiful home. But the full-on waterworks didn't start until Jerrod and I were standing outside and watched as the realtor locked up the house, got in his car, and then drove away. That's when I fell apart. I cried on Jerrods shoulder...once again mourning another loss in this horrible tragedy that just keeps on reviving itself. Though, I think this was the last revival.

Everything is now gone. Jason is gone. The house is gone. All of his things are gone. It's done. All I have now are memories and a few keepsake things. Memories are powerful things, and they're things I'll have with me for the rest of my life. The house would've gone away eventually. Those things inside it would've disappeared one by one anyway. So, I should be happy that I get to hang on to the things that will last forever. I should be happy. But, I'm not.

Click here to see pictures of our beautiful home before it was torn apart by the move. I'm not sure how long this link will stay active.

Until next time --
Stuart

First Round Is Over

2009-12-18T11:16:00.000-06:00

Well, the first round of movers has come and gone. Everything in the pile you saw in the video that's for Jason's parents is now loaded up on a truck and being hauled to Boston. Everything in the bedroom we shared is now gone.

It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I didn't expect that today would be so hard. I really expected that tomorrow would be the worst part...because then the house will be entirely empty. I was cautious about today, but I really didn't think I'd have the reaction I did.

I was doing ok through most of the packing and moving. It wasn't until they started moving the bedroom stuff out of the house that I nearly lost it. I had to literally bite my cheek over and over and over again to keep myself from breaking down right there in front of the movers. They didn't know who I am...and they certainly didn't know the backstory of this place. I didn't want to make myself uncomfortable or them, either. So I held it in.

After everything was done and all the paperwork was signed, I said goodbye to the movers and shut the door. Within seconds of the door closing, I was on the floor gasping for air as I was crying uncontrollably. It all just came flooding out at once. It was like the tears and emotions were in a mad dash to get out of my body. I couldn't control it, and frankly, I didn't want to. I let it out for about 5 minutes straight, and then I picked myself up, dried my face, blew my nose, and that was it. Breakdown over.

So now I'm thinking to myself...if today was that hard, what is tomorrow going to be like? Will it be easier because all the extremely personal stuff is gone? Or, will it still be hard because the place will truly be empty after it's done? I guess we'll find out tomorrow, won't we?

Even though I was here by myself today, I had a lot of support, and I could definitely feel it. People were leaving me messages on facebook and twitter. I can't thank everyone enough for all the love and support. This chapter is almost closed. Just a little bit more to go.

Until next time --
Stuart

Video Blog: Tour Of Jason's House

2009-12-18T07:36:00.002-06:00

It's Almost Time

2009-12-17T00:17:00.001-06:00

We're now just two days away from the final move out of Jason's house. I've been doing my best NOT to think about it this week, and I've done a pretty good job. But, the closer it gets, the more it breaks into my mind and steals every thought.

At first, I keep thinking about everything that has to go. Then I wonder if we've got everything packed up that needs to be packed up. Then I question whether or not the Salvation Army will take everything we're expecting them to take. And then finally, after I've run through all of the "logistical" thoughts, the emotional ones come to the forefront. Then it's "I can't believe this is actually happening," and "It's like saying goodbye to Jason all over again."

Yesterday, I was out shooting a story and wasn't paying attention as we were driving back to the station from our shoot location. All of a sudden, I looked up and we were driving right by Jason's street. My heart skipped a beat, and I became very sad. My photographer noticed the change in me, too, and asked what was up. Needless to say, he felt terrible that he drove by that area...but I assured him it was ok. He didn't know. And besides, am I just supposed to avoid that area forever because it'll make me sad? Hardly. It's a beautiful area of town.

Talking with my new friend & fellow widow, Casey, we both wondered if sometimes the anticipation of a bad event is worse than the actual event itself. That's why I've been doing my damndest this week to keep my emotions and my mind in check. I don't want to psyche myself up for something that isn't going to be that bad. But, then I think...what if it is that bad, and I didn't psyche myself up enough? It's a horrible catch-22, and once again, I wish there was someone who I could turn to for an answer, but there's no one.

I guess we'll see what happens. The first round of movers will be at the house on Friday morning to remove the things that are going to Jason's parents in Boston. The second round of movers will be there Saturday afternoon to collect everything else for the Salvation Army. And then the house will be empty...filled with nothing by my memories, pain, and probably tears (and some Kleenex).

Closing is on Tuesday the 22nd...the very same day that I'm leaving Dallas to go to Boston. That's going to be a tough day.

By the way - I'm totally obsessed with this new webcam thing and video chatting...so I'm gonna try to shoot a video blog at Jason's house Friday and Saturday so you can see it before it's no longer ours.

Until next time--
Stuart

Packing And Pain...Part 2

2009-12-12T18:46:00.000-06:00

Well, we're done...for the most part. We've got the entire kitchen packed up. Everything in the closets is packed up and ready for the movers. There's just a few small things here and there, but all in all...I'd say, it's done.

Once I got back into it (after my little blogging break earlier), and after I got some people here to help me, we got it done pretty quickly. It's amazing how fast you can pack up someone's entire life.

Now we just have to wait for the movers to show up, and I'm sure that's when my next breakdown will happen. It'll be tough to see all of the things that have a little essence of Jason attached to them be marched out the door and into a stranger's truck. But, alas, it's got to happen. I can't keep holding onto this forever. It's been almost seven months now. It's time to let go a little bit more.

This is a big step, and I think it's going to be the "final straw" in opening up my grief wound. After we unload the house and all its contents, there won't be anything left here of Jason...except for the few possessions I'm taking from the house and the memories I have tucked away in my brain. After this house is sold, Jason will officially have no more ties to Dallas. That's going to be a weird feeling.

It's off to a Christmas party tonight where I can assure I will be drinking my weight in alcohol. I need it after all of this crap today.

Until next time --
Stuart

Packing And Pain

2009-12-12T13:28:00.000-06:00

I've probably cried more in the last two weeks than I have in the last four months. It's been an extremely emotional time lately, and I think it's all starting to come to a head.

Jason's house is officially sold. The closing date which was set for December 30th has just been moved up to December 22nd. I'm leaving town the 22nd to go to Boston, so everything's gotta be done before then anyway. However, the reality of that date and how close it's going to come is just now setting in...and it's killing me.

This weekend and next, we'll be packing up the entire house to move it all out. Most of the stuff is going to be donated to the Salvation Army. Some of it's coming with me, some with his friends, and the rest will go to his parents. So, here I sit...alone in the house trying to pack. I've already had one complete breakdown (on the phone with his mom...not good). I've just recovered from that, and decided I should probably sit down for a bit. Writing helps.

As I stood there wrapping all of the plates in the kitchen with paper and placing them gently in the box that will carry them out of the house, I began seeing flashes of dinners we had together. I began seeing flashes of the times we spent laughing and playing around in the kitchen. I came across a decorative plate with Faneuil Hall painted on it. It's a Boston landmark...and one that Jason and I visited together when we were there in April. I was immediately transported back to that night...walking hand in hand through downtown Boston. We walked through Faneuil Hall, and then down to the Boston Aquarium and right onto the water. We stood there in the cold and talked. It was a beautiful night...one I'm glad I remembered. It's amazing what a simple plate can do.

But that's when I started to cry. The tears flowed because all of these things, these material things that have the power to transport me to another place are going to be disappearing in the next two weeks. The memories they'll leave behind will still be there, but it's just not the same. This is so incredibly hard. On one hand, I wish I could just blink and have it over with...just rip the band-aid right off. But, on the other hand, I feel like I need to have this time, these extremely sad moments, because they're all a part of the grief that's consumed me. An interesting catch-22, I guess.

The thought of getting up from this couch and going back in the kitchen to continue packing leaves me feeling nauseous. But, it's got to get done.

Here goes...

Until next time --
Stuart

An Incredible Experience

2009-12-07T23:02:00.001-06:00

A few blogs ago, I talked about going to see a psychic/medium to help me connect with Jason. I did that tonight, and I have to tell you that it was an INCREDIBLE experience. I wasn't sure I believed beforehand, but I certainly do now. I recorded the conversation, and just spent the last couple hours transcribing it so that I could post it and explain the things she was discussing. This is not the entire conversation - as it's really long, but it's the highlights. K stands for Kathleen - her name. S stand for me...Stuart.

K: Tell me the me the relationship of this person that you're wanting to connect with to you... is it a blood relative?
S: No, he was my partner.
K: Ok. This was a recent passing. I get real recent.
S: Uh huh.
K: Right, ok. He's really powerful. My next question was do you have anything of his that I can hold, but I don't think I'm going to need it to be honest with you. You carry something with you, though, on your person. Do you have like a messenger bag or some just your wallet?
S: Yeah
K: Ok, is there something in your wallet?
S: Yes, there is something there.
K: Ok, because he's really thrilled about this...Let me tell you what he's telling me, because then you'll understand it. Alright, I've got to slow down...he's really talking fast. J, first of all, too...he's showing me a big J. Is that his first initial or something?
S: Yeah.
K: He's doing that because he said he really needs to know it's really me.
S: Yeah, I do.
K: He says the thing that you're carrying in your wallet, it's about him...he's either had it a long time...he keeps showing me elongated...
S: It's a very old picture
K: Oh ok good...
S: He was 3 I think in that picture

**When I was in Boston in August, Jason's mom gave me a small photo of Jason peeing in the backyard. It's something silly, but it meant a lot to me. I've kept it in my wallet since then.**

K: And first of all, I'm really really sorry. I can feel the grief from him too.
S: Thank you.
K: Just know that's going both ways. Three years...did something significant happen between the two of you?
S: No, we didn't know each other three years ago.
K: Did you guys know a mutual friend three years ago?
S: No.
K: and you weren't together for three years?
S: No.
K: I'm trying to get him to tell us more about three years ago. Ok. He says three years ago...there was something that was significant for you and your life, and significant in his life that you probably talked about later once you got together...but....he says if that event hadn't happened for you and this one hadn't happened for him...the two of you probably wouldn't have connected. And I think it's a move, but I don't know which one.
S: That's for me

**I moved back to Dallas three years ago.**

K: He says see how the universe slammed us...because he's going like this...slammed us together. But it's like when you meet...it's like, oh my gosh...where have you been all my life. It's like immediate. He says again, it's that soul connection. It's giving me goosebumps. You guys have done this before...in previous lifes... Do you collect frogs?
S: No
K: He's talking about someone collecting frogs, and he wants them to know that he's going to continue to add to their collection or put frogs in their path. So it might be for somebody...a family member perhaps.
S: Ok
K: Just pass on the message.

**I learned later that one of Jason's dear friends (Rob) collects Frogs. I gave him the message.**

K: You don't live here...you're not from here?
S: No, I am...from Plano, but he's not.
K: Ok. Let me say what he said then...because I don't understand. He said that you're going to go home for the holidays.
S: I'm going to his home.
K: Oh...and it's not here?
S: No.
K: That's so cool that he knows that. You guys have so much emotion...I'm trying to fight back tears. I want you to know the emotion that he's trying to put out there. He understands that you're...you love him so much, but he understands that it's ok to get very angry about the fact that he's gone. He understands that you're going to have bouts of anger... he wants to let you know he's very much around you.

**I'll be going to Boston to spend the holidays with his family.**

K: He shows me wings... I was trying to determine if they were eagle wings, harley wings...I think you'll know what that means.
S: I do.
K: I get that he will show you these wings too...in wild ways. He says I can use them to teach.
S: I know exactly what he's talking about.

**Jason LOVED to fly. He loved it so much...that I'll go to the airport to feel close to him. He always said that if he didn't work in the hotel industry, he wanted to fly.**

K: He loves you very much. February... is his birthday in Feb...or your birthday.
S: No.
K: It seems like he's trying to say February is a significant month.
S: It is.
K: Ok, as long as you know what he means.
S: Yeah

**February has two significant things. First...February 2008...it's when we broke up for a while. Then, in February 2009...it's when we got back together...and really felt that deeper level connection.**

K: He loves the fact that you're going to start journaling?
S: I already have.
K: great. He's thrilled...that you're doing it. He's over there doing jumping jacks.

**This blog...hello!!!**

K: OH my...are you considering doing some sort of foundation in his honor...? He's so thrilled about this... Oh my G-d. Ok, now I need a tissue... Is that the event?
S: No. Oh my G-d...
K: He just made all these emotions come forward. He says you're going to create awareness and touch so many people's lives...but you're going to draw a whole new group of people into your life because of this...and he knows that's not why you're doing it...he says that the experiences that you're going to have are unbelievable. (cries) Travel, too...this is going to lead to travel for you. And I get hooking up with celebrities...
S: I do that already.
K: Oh, ok... well you're going to get them on the bandwagon...
S: we've already done that
K: he's so thrilled, he's like wow, one person can make such a difference in the universe. That's really something.

**Ok, this is something that I've only told a few select people. I've been thinking about creating a foundation in his name to raise awareness of HIV/AIDS related cancers. I've even gone as far as having a logo created. When she said this...I broke down....I know that is something she never would've known. Leigh Ann (who was there with me for this) didn't even know about it. Kathleen even cried after this breakthrough.**

K: Are you getting ready to buy a house?
S: No.
K: He shows me a title...and I get really good feelings about this.
S: Good, because it needs to happen.
K: Oh ok. I really think he's trying to say that he's going to help it happen.

**I've posted about this...we're selling his house.**

K: I'm going to be a little theatrical because he is. He's saying that you have stood...since he passed...maybe it's something you had done...but you've got your arms raised and you're spinning around like this...
S: That means something entirely different, but I know exactly what he's talking about.
K: He is so funny... I love this guy.
S: That's really funny.

**This is really funny. I wish I had video to show this. Jason grew up with a boy that used to play like he was Wonder Woman. He loved to tell the story about how this kid would just spin and spin...and he loved to re-enact it. We talked about it and laughed about it all the time. Kathleen got up and literally started spinning with her arms out, just like Jason did...and it was HILARIOUS!**

K: Was he at Baylor?
S: Yeah
K: He said they treated him very well.
S: They did.
K: What I heard, he's telling me say exactly what I said: They treated me very well at Baylor...and he said it just like that.
S: Yeah.

So, that's the highlights. There was some other stuff that didn't make sense yet, but I have a feeling it's all going to work itself out. I feel so incredible tonight having gone through this. It really was amazing. There are just not enough words to express what I'm feeling right now. I knew I felt Jason around me a lot, and this just proves to me that my feelings, my intuitions are correct. He really is still around me, seeing everything that's going on. That is incredible.

Until next time --
Stuart

When You Least Expect It

2009-12-07T00:31:00.000-06:00

Grief comes at you when you least expect it. I'm a little more than six months out from Jason's death. There are plenty of days when I go without crying, or even feeling sad. I stopped feeling guilty about all of that several months ago. But, just when you think you've got it licked, you let your guard down...and then....BAM! Grief smacks you back into reality.

I got a big smack tonight from grief...and it hurt something fierce. I was sitting here watching Brothers and Sisters on ABC. One of the characters has been battling lymphoma for a while (yeah, of all the cancers a TV character can get...it had to be that one). Tonight, she learned that her treatments weren't working and that the cancer spread. But, it wasn't that news that set me off. Sure, it made me sad, and immediately took me back to March 20th when Jason and I learned that the cancer had exploded all over his body. But, the smack really came later in the show.

Another character was getting married tonight. It was the end of the show, everyone was in place, and the guy doing the ceremony got started. He said that Kitty (the character with lymphoma) was going to read a poem by E. E. Cummings. I froze. I immediately looked up and started screaming "DON'T YOU DARE!" I knew what was about to happen. Two words in, I completely had a break down. It was the very poem that I read at the LLS memorial service back in September (read the speech & poem here). I began crying hysterically, went into convulsions, and then just completely froze. I'm sure my neighbors thought I was dying down here the way I was carrying on. I completely lost control of myself and my emotions. Something else in me just took over.

I cried for 15 minutes straight, and then calmed down. I was still shaking, though, for some time afterwards. I was in shock over what had just taken place. I couldn't believe myself, the way I reacted to that. I suppose I just needed that cry, and that was the only way it was going to happen. Once again, grief proved to me that it's still here and it's not going away any time soon. I suppose I need these subtle (or not so subtle) reminders every now and then.

Seriously...why did SHE have to read THAT poem? There's no explanation.

Until next time --
Stuart

Taking Inventory

2009-12-05T13:43:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting here on the couch where Jason and I used to lay together. I'm looking around at the house we were going to share. It's hard to let go. It's hard to see all of this disappear. But, I'm ready to do it. I'm ready to let go. It's time.

Jerrod and I spent the morning taking inventory of everything that's still in the house...which is a lot. There's a lot of stuff that's got to be moved out of here over the next few weeks. But, we'll get it done. We have to.

I did ok with everything as we moved our way from room to room cataloging everything inside. I was ok until we came across a pair of shorts and a shirt that were mysteriously placed in the guest room closet. They were the last shorts and shirt that Jason wore before he died. When Jerrod pulled those out and turned around with them in his hand, I almost lost it. It literally took my breath away. It was almost as if I had seen his ghost or something. Wasn't expecting that.

So, now all that's left is to go through the garage and catalog all of that, and then the task of packing will begin. I'm just ready to have this all over and done with. It's the final piece of the puzzle, and the final part of letting go of Jason and his things. I know I can get through this. I've gotten through everything else. This, too, shall pass.

Until next time --
Stuart

Worldwide Love

2009-12-04T00:35:00.002-06:00

I knew Jason was loved, but tonight I got to see just how far reaching that love goes. Jason worked for Omni Hotels and its global partner, The Global Hotel Alliance. He split his job between the two organizations working under two separate bosses. Both of them were wonderful to Jason throughout his treatment - even when HR tried to make things difficult. Jason loved the companies he worked for, and he was very proud of the work he did.

When Jason died, we received well-wishes and condolence notes from all over the world. The evening after he died, I spent hours on the computer reading email after email from his colleagues all sharing their favorite stories about Jason. It was so wonderful to hear all the great things about him from some many people all over the place. It made me realize how far reaching Jason's impact was felt.

Tonight, I had that realization again when those colleagues of his from all over the world - China, Australia, India, Germany, Switzerland, England - came together tonight in Fort Worth to raise money for Team Jason 2010. They invited myself along with Jason's two best friends to come join the festivities. They decided that since they were all staying in Fort Worth, they were going to spend the evening calf roping! Jason would've laughed so hard seeing these people trying to toss that rope around. It was hilarious to see, and so heart-warming to know that they were all making fools of themselves in his wonderful memory.

When all is said and done, I think we're going to have a little more than $5,000 to kick start Team Jason for 2010! That is FANTASTIC! I cried the entire way home tonight...because I just wish Jason was here to see all the wonderful things people are doing in his name. I wish he was here...physically...to hear all the amazing things they have to say about him. All too often, we wait until someone dies to say all the beautiful things we feel about them. We need to all be better about telling those around us what they mean to us...before it's too late.

I am blown away at these people's generosity towards us and Team Jason. I am truly touched, and even though I don't know any of these people...they all knew Jason, and tonight I could feel the love they brought from all over the world. Truly amazing.

Here's a pic of the whole group after their calf-roping extravaganza:

Until next time--
Stuart

Preparing To Say Goodbye...Again.

2009-12-02T23:43:00.000-06:00

I've learned that grief is riddled with a lot of goodbyes. In my case, there was the initial goodbye when Jason died right before my eyes. There was the goodbye when they took his body from the house we were to share together. There was the goodbye when I drove away and left his ashes at the gravesite, and then another when I left Boston entirely. There was a goodbye when his parents, friends, and I cleaned out his personal effects at his house. There was the goodbye when I realized I had lost all of his text messages...so many "I love you"s gone.

And now, the house that we cleaned out in July...is finally getting sold. So now, in just a few more weeks, I will be saying goodbye to that and everything inside it. That house holds so much meaning. It was the house he bought while he was going through his treatment. We moved him in during his stem cell transplant. I put up the first - and only - Christmas tree in that house because Jason was too weak to do it himself. We painted the bathroom, living room, and dining room together just six weeks before he was gone.

When he died in that house - in the very living/dining room that we painted together - he had only lived there for 7 months. We had created a lot of memories in his old place, but in just seven months time we had created so many amazing memories in this house. There was so many bad things that happened there, but there were many many more good things that happened there, too. It's going to be hard to let go of that place. It's going to be hard to leave that key behind and say goodbye...yet again.

Somehow, I know I'll find the strength to get through moving everything out. That kind of strength comes out of nowhere - like the strength it took to stand by helplessly and watch Jason die. I don't know where it comes from, but I know it'll be there when I need it.

Until next time --
Stuart

I Am Not Alone

2009-12-02T01:15:00.000-06:00

I've learned something recently. I'm not alone. I'm not the only young person who has lost a spouse recently. I'm not the only person who is dealing with this unimaginable grief. There are others out there, just like me, who get the pain. There are others who understand the spontaneous crying fits, and the sudden day-dreams of our loves who are now lost. I am not alone.

Tonight was a first for two reasons. I mentioned in an earlier post about a new friend - a recent widow - who I met. She and I hadn't actually met in person, but we'd already forged a pretty amazing bond over the loss of our spouses. It's amazing how much of a bond two people can share over emails and text messages without ever meeting.

It was early in October when I looked at my email box and saw something had come in on a message board for this Young Widow's Meet-Up group I joined. I joined the group a couple months before but had never been to a meeting or anything. Something about this email, though, made me stop in my tracks. You could literally feel the pain in her words. She simply said that her husband had died just three weeks before the date of this email and she was wondering if it was too early to attend a meeting. I couldn't answer that question, but something told me I needed to reach out to this woman. So I did. I sent her an email introducing myself and explaining my loss. I told her I'd be there for her if she needed to talk.

Over the next few weeks, we emailed back and forth asking each other questions, picking each other's brains and emotions. A couple weeks ago, we exchanged phone numbers, but - in this age of technology - it's funny how when you get a number, the first mode of communication isn't vocal...it's still written..in text messages. But it didn't matter. I learned more about her - and vice versa - through those messages. We were there for each other when we hurt, when we laughed, and when we needed to cry. For the first time since Jason died, I finally had found someone who felt the exact same pain that I had been feelings for nearly six months. What a relief.

Last week, after finally breaking the ice over the phone, we decided that we'd meet face-to-face at this Young Widow Meet-up in Frisco. That happened tonight, and I tell you...I'm SO glad we went to this thing. First and foremost, I'm so glad that I was able to meet this wonderful woman in person and get a hug from her. It's funny, when she walked in the door, it was like I was seeing a friend I hadn't seen in a few years. I gave her a big hug, and I immediately felt better. It takes a special person to do that.

The meeting was nice. It was awkward at times, but I think that tends to happen when you merge 5 strangers together. We each shared our stories which were all strangely similar. We laughed, cracked jokes, and even cried a bit. We commiserated with each other over things that I've never been able to talk about with anyone except my therapist (and more recently with my new friend). It felt really good to know that there are others out there like us. We are not alone. We are all sharing the exact same feelings. We are all grieving the same grief. At one point, I sat back in my chair and I began to smile. No one knew why, nor do I think anyone really noticed. But, I smiled - if only to myself - because I was thinking "FINALLY!" This is what I've been searching for.

Casey - I know you're going to be reading this at some point. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your amazing friendship, and on Thanksgiving day last week...I said a special prayer for you because I am so incredibly thankful that you sent that email back in October opening the door for me (and you) to realize that I am not alone. You are not alone. We are in this together.

Until next time --

Stuart

November 28th

2009-11-28T00:27:00.000-06:00

It's November 28th. A date that, for most people, holds no other significance. It didn't for me last year. But, this year, it does. November 28th marks the six month anniversary of the day that I lost the love of my life to cancer.

It was six months ago today that I was holding Jason's hand, caressing his face while trying to wipe the tears away from my own. It was six months ago today that I heard my love take his last breath and slip away from all our lives. It was six months ago today that my heart broke in such a way that it will never fully be repaired.

It makes me wonder, what has really changed in six months. A new friend - a fellow widow - asked me last night what six months felt like. It was a great question that I tried to answer honestly. But, I'm not sure a lot has changed in this time. I feel like I'm dealing with my grief a lot better than I was 3, 4, and 5 months ago. I feel like I have more good days than bad. I feel like I've learned to find some sort of minimal balance between bringing my grief out in the open and keeping it tucked away. I think more of a balance is needed, as there have been plenty of times (especially lately) where I've nearly broken down at work.

But, has my grief really changed in six months? When I think about what happened at 5:06am that morning, it hurts just as much as it did then. I replay that morning minute by minute in my head still and my body, my heart begin to hurt. I begin to sweat, cry, tremble...and I just want to fall down and curl up into the fetal position. It still hurts so much, and I'm beginning to wonder if that pain will ever go away. Sure, there are many days during the month when I don't feel this pain. It's only when I take the time to open my mind and remember. That's when the hurt comes flooding back, as if it's flowing right out of my soul.

So, in six months, I feel like I've learned a little, but still have a very long way to go before I feel completely in control of this monster called grief. I think the holidays are making things a little harder. Those firsts are always going to be tougher than the seconds and thirds. In the blog before this, I wrote about breaking down when I heard Feliz Navidad on the radio. That was a tough first...one I wasn't expecting. But now, because I've made it through that first one, I can laugh again. I hear that song (4 times today) and I laugh...just like I did before with Jason. That must be a good sign, right?

Jason, I love you so much...even more if it's possible. I miss you so incredibly much. I go to bed every night hoping that you'll come to me in my dreams. Tonight, will be no different. Good night my sweet love, and please come see me tonight.

Until next time -
Stuart

I'm Still Thankful

2009-11-25T12:48:00.000-06:00

It has been an unbelievable year filled with many ups and some pretty major downs. When this year began, none of us ever thought that we'd be dealing with the things we've had to deal with. While this Thanksgiving holiday is going to be extremely tough, through the sadness, I can still find things for which I'm thankful.

I'm thankful for the wonderful two years that Jason and I spent together.

I'm thankful that I had the influence of such an amazing man in my life.

I'm thankful he had such an amazing team of doctors and nurses who cared for him - both in the medical sense and personal sense.

I'm thankful that his suffering is over, and that he's no longer in pain.

I'm thankful that I have a new guardian angel on my side (who helped me win my first Emmy…for which I'm also thankful).

I'm thankful that, every day, there is something that reminds me of him.

I'm thankful that, every day, he still finds ways to make me smile.

I'm thankful that there are still plenty of days when I still feel him around me.

I'm thankful to have such an unbelievably amazing family who stood by me through everything.

I'm thankful to have such an unbelievably awesome group of friends who supported me through the most difficult time in my life.

I'm thankful to the people at work who understood what was going on, and who worked to make sure that I had nothing to worry about here.

I'm thankful to everyone who gave money, time, and support to TEAM JASON - so much so that we raised $11,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

But most of all, I'm thankful that Jason and I were able to find love in each other. No matter how short it was in the flesh, his love and the love I have for him will live on forever, and for that, I'm extremely thankful.

So, as we all celebrate this holiday, I just wanted to say THANK YOU again to all of you for everything you've done for Jason, for his family, and for me. I wish you all a very happy holiday season.

Thanks again, and I love you guys!

Happy Thanksgiving.

Feliz Navidad, My Love

2009-11-16T19:42:00.000-06:00

Jason loved the holidays. He loved to put up his Christmas tree, and spend hours decorating it. He loved to cook for the holidays. Everything about the holidays made him happy. Though, like me, he agreed that things got started a bit too early. He was very particular that holiday things didn't happen until Thanksgiving.

One thing we couldn't control, though, was the music this local radio station played. Every year, they completely throw out their format and switch to holiday music 24/7. They, like the commercials and retail stores, always put out their Christmas stuff waaaaay too early. But, I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a thrill from hearing that first bout of holiday music.

One of the songs that we liked to hear initially was Jose Feliciano's "Feliz Navidad". Hearing it that first time actually made me smile. Jason, too, I think. It wasn't until the 20th or 30th time that we heard it - which was usually just a week or two into their new format - that we started getting annoyed. It became like a game for us. We'd text each other every time we heard it, and then we began keeping a running tally of how many times it was played. It was our thing, and it made me smile every time I heard the song (before promptly changing the channel).

Tonight, I had just gotten in the car and started on my way home when I flipped on my afternoon drive radio station. It's the very station that takes the format dump. Usually they promote the hell out of it beforehand, but this year, there was no fanfare. Suddenly, I realized that I was listening to Christmas music, but it didn't phase me. I hummed and sang along as I got on the highway and into traffic. And then it hit. "Feliz Navidad" came on. I immediately started laughing and clapping, and then I did something I hadn't done in a very long time. I reached for my phone with the intent to text message Jason. But, before my fingers hit my phone to pick it up, my brain clicked and I realized what I was doing. I had a complete break down right there in my car while sitting on Interstate 820.

Hearing that song was like a hard, cold slap in the face. I can't believe I actually reached for my phone to text him. I don't know where my head was at that moment, and I honestly felt stupid. That was the first time in a long long time that I even ever thought about doing something like that. I know I shouldn't punish myself, or get mad when I do things like that. I'm sure that's going to happen, and I just need to let it.

Anyway, I'm doing better now. I'm over it. I won't be able to listen to that song, though...at all this entire season. If I hear it teased, I will change the channel. If I hear it come on without warning, I will change the channel faster than you can say Jesus. I can't do it. This season is going to be hard enough without adding to it.

Until next time --
Stuart

Hello Medium. I'm Stuart.

2009-11-15T23:21:00.000-06:00

I've been giving this subject a lot of thought, and I've finally made a decision and a step forward. I've decided that I'm going to go see a psychic/medium in hopes that I'll hear from Jason just one last time. I'm still skeptical of this whole thing, but more than that, I'm extremely hopeful that I will hear from him. The skeptical side of me just thinks I'll hear from him long enough for him to tell me that I wasted my money. LOL

One of my best friends went to this woman in Frisco and had an amazing experience. Shortly after Jason died, she let me listen to the tape she recorded at her session, and I have to say it was pretty amazing. Whatever I believed before listening to the tape completely went out the window after listening to it. There were things she said in that session that only Leigh Ann or someone in her family would know. She talked about LA looking at photos of her grandfather...which she was doing just a few nights before her reading. It literally sent chills up my spine.

That is the kind of reading I'm hoping for. I want to know that Jason is still here with me. I want to know that he's seeing what's going on down here. I want to know that he saw that I won the Emmy (and I also want to know if he had anything to do with it). I want to know if he saw that we raised nearly $11,000 in his memory. But most of all, I need to know that he still loves me. I need to hear it...just one last time.

I feel like I've done a fairly good job of moving on up to this point. But lately, I just can't shake the feeling that I want to reach out and hear from him again. If it's possible, why wouldn't I want to do it? I'm sure my therapist would jump all over me and condemn my decision to do this...saying something to the effect of "I need to let go" and "I need to realize that Jason's dead and he's not coming back". Of course I know he's dead and not coming back. I'm not going into this expecting to actually SEE him. But, I am going into this hoping to at the very least feel his presence...and hear from him (through her, obviously). I guess that's how this all started. I used to phsycially FEEL his presence around me. I don't feel it anymore. That's what bothers me. That's why I want to know that he's still here.

So, December 7th at 6pm...I will be arriving for my reading. One hour later, I hope to emerge from there with a new-found respect for this gift, and with a new sense of knowing that Jason is still in my life and will always be there. Here's hoping for the best.

Until next time --
Stuart

Taking A Cue From A Soldier

2009-11-08T23:39:00.000-06:00

This week, there was a great tragedy in the U.S. An Army Major opened fire inside Fort Hood in Killeen, Texas killing 13 people and wounding nearly 40 others. It's one of those stories that grips the nation, and I had the honor of being part of our stations live team coverage. Friday, I was sent down to Fort Hood to field produce.

It was surreal being there on the post. I met soldiers who were inside the room when the Major burst in and opened fire. I met soldiers who pulled bodies out of there while the massacre continued. I met soldiers who were the first on the scene, who held the Major's body. 24 hours before I was standing in front of them, they were faced with an unimaginable horror.

We had one thing in common, though. We both have seen death up close and personal. Granted though - the death I saw was certainly not violent. But, what I found interesting was how they were handling it. They are soldiers first and foremost. Sure, they were shaken, tired, and weary, but that didn't stop them from being brave men and women...telling their stories over and over to countless media. They didn't let what happen stop them from getting up the next morning, putting on that uniform, and reporting for duty. To them, life must go on. They must continue in the face of this great tragedy so that those lives lost would not be lost in vain.

When I took a step back from my work and looked at what I was seeing in front of me, I have to wonder if I was sent down there for a reason. Did I need to see how they managed to pick themselves up so quickly and move on? It was extremely uplifting and moving to see how they were handling all of this down there. The Army wives, the soldiers themselves...hell, even the media! It truly was an inspiration, and it really got me thinking about my life as it is now...and what I need to do to really get myself back on track after the massive derailment nearly six months ago.

To the soldiers and their families in Fort Hood, my thoughts and prayers are with you all... however, I have a feeling if any of you knew I was saying that, you'd tell me to turn those thoughts and prayers around on myself and turn it into something good in my life. Funny, that's exactly what Jason told me to do time and time again before he died. Maybe he was right. Don't tell him I said that. Even from the grave, I can feel him gloating. LOL ;)

Until next time --
Stuart

A Flash Forward

2009-10-28T00:12:00.000-05:00

Have you seen the show Flash Forward on ABC? If not, the basic premise is that at some point, the entire world blacked out for 2 minutes and 17 seconds...and everyone saw something happening 6 months into the future. It's an interesting show. Check it out if you have time in your TV viewing schedule.

I bring it up only because - as weird as it sounds - I kinda feel like I had a flash forward tonight. I know that sounds crazy, but it really was the weirdest feeling. It was a day dream, that's for sure. It happened tonight while I was driving home from my best friend Amy's house. Yes, I was driving...I know probably not a safe situation to be day dreaming. It's happened to me a lot since Jason died. In the beginning, I'd day dream and replay the moments of his death, or I'd go even farther back and replay moments from my birthday weekend.

Anyway, I digress. I didn't really have anything in my mind at the time, and then boom...all of a sudden I saw myself walking up to Jason's grave, but I wasn't alone. I was holding hands with another man...holding his hand extremely tight, actually. I began to feel very nervous...almost like I was bringing someone home to meet my parents. I never saw the other man's face. But, it was quite clear, I was bringing a new lover to meet Jason. In the next instant, I was at Jason's parents house introducing this mysterious man to Jason's mom Jane. She shook his hand and then gave me a big hug. And at that moment, I snapped back into reality and finished my drive home.

I was immediately baffled by my "vision" or whatever you want to call it. Did I just have my own version of a flash forward? I couldn't tell when this was taking place, but it was warmer. So, it wasn't fall or winter. But this whole thing got me thinking about the future and how the next man in my life is going to have a lot to live up to. Not only will he have to overcome meeting my friends and family (which is big enough in its own right), he's now going to have to overcome the fact that Jason will ALWAYS be a part of my life. I will want him to come with me to Boston to see Jason's grave. I will want him to meet Jason's parents. I will want him to know about them and understand our past. I did know this - during my day dream, I did feel like I was in love again...I had strong feelings for this person. I must have if I brought him to Boston.

I wonder if this was all just a sign that I need to start getting back out there again. I wonder if it was Jason's way of nudging me, telling me it's time to start dating again. Jason was very pushy at the end, saying that he wanted me to move on quickly. He was very concerned that I would go years without opening myself back up. But, so soon? I just don't know if I'm really ready to do that! It's been five months. Today. Five months ago today. Wow. FIVE MONTHS! I almost didn't realize it was the 28th. That's just insane. It feels so long ago, yet at times, it feels like it was yesterday.

I don't know what to do. And chances are, this is going to be bothering me for some time. Once again, I find myself alone in having to deal with this. No one around me has had to go through this (luckily), so I have no one to go to for guidance. Once again, I wish there was a manual on how to do this. I'm open to your advice...

Until next time --
Stuart

An Amazing Weekend!

2009-10-18T23:11:00.002-05:00

What an amazing weekend. Truly AMAZING!

First, we'll start with some REALLY exciting news! I WON AN EMMY AWARD! Yes! An actual EMMY AWARD!

It's my very first one. I've been nominated 5 previous times but never won...until NOW! I'm so super excited...but it's really bittersweet because Jason was supposed to be here to see this. It really just drove home the fact that he's not here...he'll never be here to celebrate my wins, or even to help ease my losses. I know "he's here in spirit" and all that other blah blah blah...but, that doesn't make me feel better. I'm greedy, and I want him here with me...IN THE FLESH.

But, I put all my sad feelings aside for another celebration this weekend. It was the 2009 Dallas Light the Night Walk! I promised Jason before he died that if I won that Emmy...I would haul it around with me at the walk. And I did.

It was a fantastic night! TEAM JASON was out in FULL force.

I am SO incredibly blessed with an amazing group of friends and family. They have ALL been so amazing through all of this. They've given me unbelievable support with TEAM JASON and I can't thank them enough.

TEAM JASON has so far raised $10,550 for the fight against blood cancers. We were the #1 friends and family fundraising team in Dallas. ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!

It has been an unbelievably awesome weekend. So many wonderful memories...but also plenty of reminders that the love of my life is no longer here.

Until next time --

Stuart

From 0 to 10,000

2009-10-16T10:56:00.000-05:00

Something amazing happened this morning. TEAM JASON, the team I created for the Dallas Light the Night Walk, officially raised more than $10,000! This morning, we crossed that amazing threshold with 2 days to spare (the walk is this Sunday).

I am both humbled and completely blown away by the outpouring of love and support for this wonderful cause. I was told yesterday that $500 helps support one family navigate their way through this awful disease. Our $10,000 will help 20 families! That is simply amazing, humbling, and inspiring!

What's also inspiring is how many people donated to our cause. People I've never met. People Jason never met. More than a dozen people who donated to the team (some donating $100 or more) never met Jason. They've only heard about him through a mutual friend or colleague, but because of the awesome connection he had to that person, these people felt compelled to donate to his memory. To me, THAT is the mark of a truly remarkable man whose legacy will continue to live on not only in those who know and love him, but also in those who merely hear about him from others. That is a testament to how many lives Jason touched and how deep those connections ran. We should all strive to be more like that.

I just wanted to take a moment through this medium to say THANK YOU to everyone who helped make TEAM JASON the amazing success that it is. No one did it alone. It was a complete team effort, and everyone from those who donated to those who spread the word should be proud of their effort and proud to be a part of the wonderful way we're honoring the most wonderful man in my life.

By the way - did I mention that TEAM JASON is the #1 fundraising team in DALLAS?! WE'RE NUMBER ONE BABY! How awesome is that!?

The walk is Sunday, and I'm so excited to be a part of it. I'm so much looking forward to seeing everyone there, celebrating our accomplishment, but most of all...celebrating the man who brought us all together.

Until next time--
Stuart

Say Jason To Me

2009-10-13T21:16:00.001-05:00

I just read this poem on another blog, and just had to put it on mine. Beautiful words that couldn't be truer. This poem was rephrased and based on the book "Saying Olin to Goodbye" by Donald Hackett.

The time of concern is over. No longer am I asked how I am doing.
Never is the name of my partner mentioned to me.
A curtain descends. The moment has passed.
A life slips from frequent recall.
There are expectations...close and comforting friends, sensitive and loving family.
For most, the drama is over. The spotlight is off.
Applause is silent.

But for me, the play will never end. The effects are timeless.
On the stage of my life, he has been both lead and supporting actor.
Do not tiptoe around the greatest event of my life. Love does not die.
His name is written on my life. The sound of his voice replays within my mind.
You feel he is dead. I feel he is of the dead and still lives.
You say he WAS my partner. I say he IS.

It hurts to bury his memory in silence.
What he was in the flesh has now turned to ash.
What he is in spirit, stirs within me always. He is of my past, but he is part of my present.
He is my hope for the future. You say not to remind me. How little you understand that I cannot forget. I would not if I could.

I forgive you, because you cannot know. I strive not to judge you, for yesterday I was like you.
I do not ask you to walk this road. The ascent is steep and the burden heavy. I walk it not by choice. I would rather walk it with him in the flesh.

I am what I have to be. What I have lost you cannot feel. What I have gained you cannot see.

Say Jason, for he is alive in me.
He and I will meet again, though in many ways we have never parted. He and his life play light songs in my mind, sunrises and sunsets on my dreams. He is real and he is shadow.
He was and he is. He is my partner and I love him as I always did.

Say Jason to me and say Jason again.

What's Next?

2009-10-12T00:12:00.000-05:00

For the last few months...well, really since Jason died in late May, there has been distraction after distraction to keep my mind going. That's not to say that I've been in denial about Jason's death...or that I haven't been dealing with it. But, I've had other things, positive things, to keep me going and to help keep my chin up.

However, all of that will culminate in next Sunday's Light the Night Walk for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society in Dallas. The day after Jason's burial in Boston I created TEAM JASON for the Dallas walk, and in four months time we became the #1 fundraising team. Just this morning we crossed a major threshold...$9,000! I've worked my ass off over the last four months to raise money and ensure TEAM JASON's success.

But, come Sunday, it's all going to be over. And then what? I was really dreading the month of September because of all the reminders of Jason's absence. But, looking back...I wonder if I was really dreading it...or welcoming it because each event was just one more way...one more reason to feel close to Jason again. His mother asked me today what I'm going to do with myself after Sunday. I didn't have an answer for her...and still don't. I don't know what I'm going to do...I don't know how I'm going to continue to keep Jason's memory alive in me...and alive in others.

I've been kicking around the idea of creating and launching the TEAM JASON website for both the Light the Night Walk and for the Lone Star Ride. But, lately, I'm thinking that's not enough. First of all, those two events are so close together so I'm afraid that people will get confused and it will actually bring in fewer donations. However, I do feel strongly that merging these two teams could be good. I just need to give this project more thought...but it will happen. I will do this. I need to...for me...and for Jason. I will not let his life...his death be for nothing.

If anything, I'd like to use part of the site for reaching out to other widows of cancer. If you read my last blog, you'll understand why. More needs to be done to reach out to those of us who have been left behind...whose love has been stolen by this disease. We cannot be forgotten. Our fight should not be lost.

So, I'm open for suggestions about the new upcoming site. And here's to hoping that I don't lose my mind in a week after the walk is over. I'm really nervous now about how I'm going to feel, what I'm going to think. Will it all hit me at once, or will it be a gradual ambush? I guess only time will tell.

Until next time...
Stuart

The Forgotten Warriors

2009-10-06T01:59:00.000-05:00

I'm about to get on a soap box and speak honestly. I apologize in advance if my rant offends anyone. That is not my intention. I am in no way trying to undermine the amazing work that cancer warriors are doing. I am in no way trying to diminish their fight. This is just my view from where I sit.

Since Jason's diagnosis and subsequent death, I've inundated myself with people in the cancer community. Whether it be on twitter, facebook, or other websites...there is certainly no shortage of wonderful cancer fighting organizations. And that's great! I've enjoyed getting to know a few of them personally and professionally, and I admire so very much the work they're doing. I'm even volunteering my time and money with several of the organizations. My beef isn't even with them, per se.

Here's my problem. For 1 year exactly - from May 28, 2008 to May 28, 2009 - I fought right alongside Jason as he battled his disease. I was there for every step, every treatment, every speed bump, and I was there when that beautiful man let go. I had support from friends and family, sure, but I also had the support of a few great organizations. However, that all went away when Jason died. Now that his fight was over, I - the person who fought just as hard as he did - was forgotten. I was discarded as waste - or at least that's how I feel.

Now, that's not to say that every group did that. I've been welcomed into the local Leukemia & Lymphoma Society chapter and have worked my ass off to raise money for our Light the Night Walk team. They've been amazing to me, and I thank them for realizing that just because the person with the cancer is gone doesn't mean that those of us left behind don't need support. I'm all for providing hope, support, and encouragement to those who are still fighting this awful monster. I want everyone with this disease to make it. I don't want anyone to have to go through what Jason went through. It was awful.

But, I'm reaching a point of anger...disappointment...and frustration. There have been a number of times lately like I've "overstayed my welcome". I get the feeling like no one in the "living w/ cancer" world wants anything to do with me - a widower. I suppose I remind them of the reality that cancer kills. I remind them that no matter how much hope you have, no matter how many prayers you say, cancer still kills. I now feel like I've become part of a forgotten group...the widows and widowers who have been discarded from the cancer fight because we remind everyone else about cancer's ugly side. And, to be honest, I'm starting to get a little mad about it.

I told Jason the morning he died that I would not give up the fight. I told Jason that I would continue to fight in his name. That's exactly what I've been doing these last four months. But, I almost feel like I'm fighting alone. I mean, I've got my friends (and his friends, too), and family of course...and there are the wonderful folks at the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society for whom I've helped raise nearly $8,000. Beyond that, though, I feel pushed aside, and I don't know why.

I'm curious to know if there are others who feel this way. I'd like to know if I'm out of bounds on this one...if I'm just being a bitter-body looking for someone to be mad at. I don't think that's the case...at least I hope not. Maybe this can just be chalked up to that whole "everyone else is moving on with their lives and I'm still stuck in the past" feeling.

I really want to be a part of the fight. I want to be a part of the hope, the dream that one day there will be a cure for cancer. But, I also want people to know that until that happens - the reality is cancer does kill. I believe people in the "living w/ cancer" world should hear from those of us who have watched our loved one's battle against the disease end before our eyes. Hearing that reality, in my view, could help ignite even more of a fire to fight.

I guess all of this was sparked by a comment I saw on twitter today. A man who created a cancer organization for young adults with cancer said something that really bothered me. He addressed the members of the media and begged that we all stop using the word "victim" when talking about people with cancer. It's not the first time I've heard someone say that. But what's wrong with the word victim? Does it make the person sound weak? Are they not being victimized by the cancer? Is it not wreaking havoc on their body? Does that not make them a victim? When Jason died...did he not become a victim of cancer? Once again - those who died (and those left behind) are pushed aside because those still fighting don't want to see the other side.

Maybe I'm just being too sensitive. Maybe I'm just angry today. I haven't been angry in a long time.

Until next time -- I welcome your comments.
Stuart

To Where You Are

2009-10-02T23:28:00.000-05:00

The following song came on the radio tonight while I was driving home from a friends house and I seriously almost had to pull over because I was crying so hard. It's a Josh Groban song (written and performed first by Richard Marx). Here's a youtube video of a live version with a touching story to go with it. Lyrics are below that. Tell me this doesn't make you cry.

To Where You Are lyrics

Who can say for certain
Maybe you're still here
I feel you all around me
Your memory's so clear

Deep in the stillness
I can hear you speak
You're still an inspiration
Can it be (?)
That you are mine
Forever love
And you are watching over me from up above

Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile to know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are

Are you gently sleeping
Here inside my dream
And isn't faith believing
All power can't be seen

As my heart holds you
Just one beat away
I cherish all you gave me everyday
'Cause you are my
Forever love
Watching me from up above

And I believe
That angels breathe
And that love will live on and never leave

Fly me up
To where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are

I know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are

My Twin...Sort Of

2009-10-01T21:09:00.000-05:00

I had an interesting (and emotional) experience today that I was not prepared for. I'm working on a story about some new medical research (can't get specific...as there are prying eyes on this blog). I was interviewing a patient involved in a local clinic trial for a vaccine for a disease in which there is currently no cure. It's not cancer.

Anyway - the man is gay (hint hint), and was very nervous about doing the interview. So when I met him, I wanted to calm him down and let him know that I know a little about what he's going through - that I'm not just some guy who doesn't care about him. So shortly after we met, I told him that I had recently lost my partner to cancer...letting him know that I'm gay as well. That's when I got the bomb dropped on me that I wasn't expecting.

As soon as I said that...he turned to me and said that he, too, had recently lost his partner to cancer. Further talk uncovered that Jason and this guy's love died from the EXACT same cancer. HOW FREAKIN' RANDOM IS THAT?! Needless to say, that threw both of us for a loop, and by the end of the interview, we were both crying. After all was said and done, we gave each other a big hug.

He said things in that interview that I have said several times...like I wouldn't wish this hell on my worst enemy. It was like I was looking in a mirror. FINALLY someone was sitting in front of me who knew EXACTLY...word-for-word what I had been through and was currently going through. It was an amazing experience...one that I had not experienced this whole time. I've talked to other widows - some with very similar stories. However, I've never met another gay man whose lost his partner to the exact same thing. He knew exactly what it was like. They died virtually the same way. It was really chilling to hear someone else's story - and it was almost identical to mine. It literally sent a chill up my spine.

I also happened to be interviewing this person a building away from where Jason was treated for his cancer. So, after we were done, I popped over to the 5th floor of the cancer center to say hi to all my favorite oncology nurses. I love those ladies so much. They became like family during the whole ordeal, and I don't ever want to lose my relationship with them. I'm making it a point to go see them as often as I can. Some people ask me if it's weird going back to the oncology floor. At first, it was extremely weird and difficult...especially when I ran into Jason's doctor for the first time. I wanted to yell and scream "YOU FAILED!" But, I didn't. It really wasn't his fault. It's cancer's fault. Right?

Until next time--
Stuart

A Time To Remember

2009-09-30T23:43:00.000-05:00

The past couple weeks have been very tough to get through. There's been a lot of reminders of Jason, and a lot of reminders that Jason is no longer here. I blogged earlier about several dates this month: September 18th would've been Jason's 40th birthday. To celebrate, his friends and I got together for the weekend to laugh, cry, and remember. September 27th, Jason was remembered by his friends and cohorts at the Lone Star Ride Fighting AIDS. Jason was a big part of this event for years, and it showed. Everyone was in tears as they retired his crew number. His bike was also used as the "riderless bike" which proved to be an unbelievably emotional moment in the ceremony. And finally, tonight, September 30th, I took part in a city-wide memorial event to remember those lost at the hands of lymphoma. I posted my speech in a previous blog. The event was beautiful, and those of us who helped organize it were blown away at the attendance, stories, and love that surrounded us. It truly was a special evening.

I wrote in an earlier entry that I was not looking forward to September and I just wanted to get through it. Well, tomorrow is October 1st. It's officially the end of September, and I made it through. There were a lot of moments when I didn't want to get out of bed. There were a lot of moments when I just wanted to cry. In fact, there were several moments when I did cry...one time in particular I broke down sobbing at my desk at work. Talk about embarrassing.

My therapist - who I've been working with since Jason was first diagnosed - believes that grief isn't as black and white as those 5 stages we all learn about in school. She believes that grief is a continuous process that circles around...making loop after loop after loop. At the onset, the grief circle is quite compact and tight...intense. But, as time goes on, while you still may be hitting those ups and downs, they're farther from the compact and tight center - therefore less intense. It makes sense. This month was hard. There were a lot of milestones, and they were hard to get through, but they weren't unbearable. I suppose that means my grief has jumped to an outer circle.

So, now it's onward and upward to October. I'm entering one of the busiest seasons for work, and I suppose that's a good thing. It'll certainly keep me occupied. We've also got the Light the Night Walk to look forward to. TEAM JASON is still the #1 Friends and Family fundraising team for the Dallas walk. This week, we hit the $7,000 mark and we're continuing to get donations. I've also got a pretty big auction on ebay that'll be ending next Tuesday that I hope will bring in several hundred more $$. I think Jason would be extremely impressed by all the money we've been able to raise. Seriously. SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS! That's a lotta dough!

So for now, I say goodbye to September. Hello October. And to Jason, I love you, and I miss you every single day. Come see me in my dreams soon.

Until next time--
Stuart

A City Remembers

2009-09-30T09:49:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I'll be speaking at a city-wide memorial service to remember those lost to leukemia & lymphoma. The LLS is hosting the event, and I've helped them plan and put this all together. They asked me to give a little speech - about Jason, our experience, and my grief. Here is what I'll be saying.

Good evening. My name is Stuart Boslow. I'm 29 years old, and 4 months ago, I lost my soulmate to this awful monster called cancer. My partner, Jason, was diagnosed with non-hodgkins lymphoma on May 28, 2008...and exactly one year later on May 28, 2009...I stood next to his bed, holding his hand, as he took his last breath. At 29-years old, I was calling friends, family, and co-workers to inform them that the love of my life was gone.

In the days after his death, I was in such a "go" mode, that I never gave myself time to really feel and experience what I had just been through. There was the planning of the memorial service, dealing with the remains, and a million other details. There were meetings about the will, the house, and his belongings. It was all so matter-of-fact...and business-like. It wasn't until weeks later that I truly began to comprehend what happened. It wasn't until weeks later, when I truly felt the extent of my loss.

In those weeks right after he died, I was surrounded by friends and family...loved ones who all wanted to make sure I was ok. I began to loathe the "Are you ok" question. It was the only question anyone would ask, and I was tired of answering it. Obviously, I was not ok, but I always said yes because I didn't think anyone really wanted the truth. I was surrounded by people, yet I felt so incredibly alone.

Later, when the dust had settled and everyone else had returned to their lives...I was still stuck in the past - trying to come to terms with everything. I would replay the moments of his death over and over in my head. I felt like I was walking around with a giant scarlet letter on my chest. I began feeling guilty for bringing him up in conversation because I could see my the person get uncomfortable when they didn't know how to respond. When someone would try to help - I'd get mad because I felt like I was being lectured on how I should be grieving.

It took me a while to realize - there is no one way to grieve. It's different for everyone. Grief is probably the most personal feeling you'll ever go through in your life. It's even more personal than love, I believe...because love you share with another. Grief, is yours and yours alone. No one can tell you how to do it, or for how long…and no one should tell you when it's time to move on. Only YOU can know when it's time. If it's one thing I've learned through this whole experience, it's to listen to myself...to my heart, because THAT is what is going to guide me through this. Once I realized that and started listening to my heart, I truly began to heal.

Jason died four months ago Monday, and I can now answer the "Are you ok" question honestly. I am ok. I no longer feel the need to hide my feelings. I no longer feel guilty for speaking his name, and I'm no longer ashamed of getting upset. The horrific memories of the moments of his death have faded and the wonderful memories we made together have come back to the surface. I close my eyes now and I hear his laugh, his jokes, I see his face...and best of all, I still feel his love...and all of that makes me smile. They say that time heals...and I believe it does. They say that grief never goes away, it just gets easier to deal with. I'd say that is true.

It's evident by your attendance here tonight that - no matter how long it's been since your loved one died - it's still important for you to take time to pause and remember what he or she meant to you and your life. That's truly amazing...and is a wonderful example of how...through memories...people can live forever. For me, I carry my memories of Jason where ever I go, and take a moment every day to say "I love you."

I heard the poem I'm about to read in a movie called In Her Shoes, and the first time I heard it, it didn't mean a thing. I heard it again shortly after Jason died, and the words just stuck with me. It's called I carry your heart with me, by E. E. Cummings.

“I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go. And whatever is done by only me... is your doing. I fear no fate... for you are my fate. I want no world, for you are my world. Here is the deepest secret no one knows. Here is the root of the root... and the bud of the bud... and the sky of the sky of a tree called life which grows higher than the soul can hope... I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart.”

Thank you.

Happy Birthday, My Love

2009-09-17T23:04:00.000-05:00

September 18, 1969...the most beautiful man I've ever met was born. September 18, 2009...the most beautiful man I've ever met was supposed to turn 40 years old. May 28, 2009...the most beautiful man I've ever met was stolen from my life.

I've been dreading this day for weeks...knowing full well that I'd lose it. Jason's friends and I had already begun planning a celebration for his 40th birthday before things took a turn for the worse. We decided in the days after his death to continue with a few of those plans. Tonight, we'll be meeting for a quiet dinner at a friends house to reflect, remember, reminisce, and REALLY cry. Saturday, it's a night out on the town - the way Jason would've wanted to celebrate.

It's almost been 4 months since the love of my life took his last breath. I can still hear the sound. I can still feel his clammy hand in mine. I can still picture him laying there, eyes closed, as he gasped for one last time...and let go. It's like it was yesterday. The pain, the loneliness is still so incredibly strong. I don't feel it all day everyday like I did in the beginning. But, when I open myself up just enough to let some of it in, it's like a flood and I can hardly contain it.

This weekend is more than Jason's birthday. It also would've been our 2 year anniversary. 2 years! How is it possible that 2 short years seems like a lifetime? It just doesn't make sense.

Jason, where ever you are, I hope you will be celebrating with us - as we honor you, honor your birthday, and celebrate your life. I love you so incredibly much, and I miss you more with every second that passes.

Happy Birthday, my love. You're 40 years old now, and you're BEAUTIFUL!

Until next time --
Stuart

September...One Week In.

2009-09-07T01:02:00.001-05:00

So, we're a little more than a week into September, and it's going pretty much like I expected. Emotional. Difficult. Gut-wrenching. Ok, so I'm having trouble coming up with other descriptive words tonight. Please excuse me.

I've consciously tried to NOT think about the last few months this week, but the more I worked at not thinking about it...naturally, the more I thought about it. And of course, this week felt like the longest week of my life. It didn't seem to end. I didn't help things either by staying up every night running through the events AGAIN in my head. Why do we do this to ourselves? Am I doing this to make sure I remember that it happened, that it was real? I'm pretty sure I know it's real...I lived it, right? Am I doing this because I'm afraid that, as time goes on, I'll forget the details? I'm thinking now that it's that one. Maybe I should start telling myself that I'll NEVER forget it.

I watched a movie last night that I probably shouldn't have. It's called "P.S., I love you" and stars Hilary Swank as a widow (her husband died of cancer, go figure) who is trying to find her way again. To be honest, most of the movie didn't bother me. There were parts I related to, parts I didn't. She definitely took things down a much different path...losing her mind a little after her husband's death. I didn't do that. I kept it together. However, towards the end of the movie, someone was reading a letter from the dead husband to his wife, and there were things in it that Jason had said to me almost word for word before he died. Things like how much I meant to him, how he saw me, etc. When I watched this in the movie, without warning, I burst into tears, practically a convulsing breakdown for 10 minutes. It almost scared me. I haven't cried like that in weeks.

This week, I found myself thinking about Jason's death in the car on the way to work, enroute to meet my parents today, driving home from a show last night. I'll daydream like it's happening now and space out - probably not a good idea since I'm behind the wheel. I even thought about it in the shower today. What is going on?!

I don't know what's happening to me. Could this be the last flood of emotions before I truly let go? There's been a lot going on lately, a lot of possibilities...possibilities that could take me away from Dallas. It's a new job opportunity that I've been straddling the fence about for a couple weeks. I guess it just has me wondering if it's too soon to leave, too soon to have a fresh start. I've moved 4 times to new cities in the last 10 years, and I know how much energy it takes to move and start a new job, make new friends, etc. I just don't know if I have the energy for all of that right now. I mean, shit! I've been through the ringer this year. Is it so awful that I'd pass on an amazing opportunity because I don't want to turn my life upside down again?! Or am I sounding like a little scaredy cat who's afraid to leave the "status quo" for the unknown? What's so good about the "status quo" right now anyway? Maybe a fresh start in a new city would do me some good. Still, I say that, and then I think..."But it's only been 3 months!"

In the words of Carrie Bradshaw...I have to wonder, how soon is too soon move on?

Until next time --
Stuart

September 1st

2009-09-01T21:23:00.002-05:00

I haven't been looking forward to September. It's going to be a big month emotionally, physically, and any other ...ally you can think of.

First of all, three days ago marked the 3 month anniversary of Jason's passing. I'd reached the point where I had stopped replaying that May 28th over and over in my head. I'd stopped thinking about the days, hours, minutes leading up to that moment. I thought I had moved past that...but I was wrong. August 28th and the days since, every single night, I've laid awake in bed "daydreaming" those events, conversations, thoughts, and feelings over and over and over. I can't stop it...at least I haven't been able to yet. Even Lunesta doesn't help...though eventually at some point I pass out.

It's not that I want to forget those events...quite the contrary. I just don't want to think about it like this anymore. It's got me wondering if there's something I'm supposed to be looking for, something I didn't see when it was happening that I might need to know now. Or maybe it's just my mind letting me know that I'm not done feeling this yet. Needless to say, there've been a lot of tears this week. A lot of damp pillowcases. A lot of tissues in the waste basket. It's been a while since I've had to open a new box of kleenex.

September brings a lot of mixed emotions. Jason would've been turning 40 years old on September 18th. Oddly enough, that's also the day that the Emmy nominations will be announced this year. Oddly enough, that's also the start of the celebratory Jewish holiday Rosh Hashana - otherwise known as the Jewish New Year. Oddly enough, it's gay pride weekend here in DFW. And, oddly enough, it's the 2 year anniversary of our first face-to-face meeting. That one date, that one weekend holds so much meaning to me this year...more than years past. And oddly enough, I'm not looking forward to it.

After that weekend, there's two more issues with September. The weekend of the 25th brings the Lone Star Ride Fighting AIDS, an event that was extremely special to Jason. This year, they'll be retiring Jason's jersey and crew number, and they'll be using Jason's bike as the "riderless bike" to symbolize all the people we've lost this year. I'll be at the opening and closing ceremonies with his friends and his parents, who are coming in from Boston for the occasion. I'll be honest when I say - I'm not looking forward to it.

3 days after that, I'll be volunteering and speaking at a city-wide memorial/remembrance service for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I've helped plan the event, know every detail going into it. I'm supposed to write a 3-4 minute speech that I'm expected to give at the event. I haven't written a word. Again, I'm not looking forward to it.

This month will bring day after day of reminders, inuendos, thoughts, and constant realizations that I've lost my soulmate. I AM NOT LOOKING FORWARD TO IT.

There is ONE thing I am looking forward to...O C T O B E R!

Until next time --

Stuart

Catching Up Is Hard To Do

2009-08-17T20:35:00.003-05:00

So, I know...it's been a while since my last writing. I was off experiencing the joy that is New York City. After the downer of a trip to Boston, I needed some time away - just to myself (and some close friends) to have some fun and forget about my troubles for a while. It did the trick, for a bit anyway.

I was pretty shaken up after leaving Boston. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be seeing the stone. But, like Jason's mom said to me..each step of this process we thought would be hard and we wouldn't be able to get through, but we did. And she's right. It was extremely difficult seeing his name on that stone, but I did it. I made it through.

I got a call today from a gal I worked with on a story about breast cancer research. The patient I profiled in the story is not doing well. The cancer has spread from her breast to the lymph nodes...and her prognosis is not good. My heart just sank when I heard that news. I wanted to call her right away, but we decided it best if I wait for a little while and then contact her just to check on her.

An hour later, I was emailing with a dear friend of mine from Reno whose step-father has been battling lymphoma. I knew things had taken a turn for the worse with him, but I didn't know how bad until today. She told me that they had begun Hospice care, and that Ray didn't expect to be here another two months. I actually lost my breath when I read that. I began choking...to the point someone had to run out of the room to get me water. While the news earlier about Joan was bad...this latest gem hit hard. Gina is someone I care very deeply for...and the fact that this is happening to her...just absolutely makes me SICK! This has GOT to stop.

I think part of the hit was the "two month" thing. I can tell you word for word what was said on March 20th when Jason and I were told he had two months to live. Two months. The words just echoed. I can tell you what I was wearing that day...what thoughts went through my head...what I said to Jason. I've replayed that day over in my head almost as much as the day he died. I just can't believe that it's happening to a friend of mine. I just don't believe it.

It's been a very emotional evening...a lot of bad memories...a lot of prayers. I'm not sure what to make out of all what happened today. I'm not even sure I'm supposed to make something out of it. What I do know is that I've been re-fueled in my fight against this piece of mother fucking shit known as cancer.

I hate you. I hate you so much it hurts sometimes. I have so much hatred for you in my body that I'm happy to say - there's no room in me for you. You won't get to take me...because I'm going to take you. No matter what you throw at me, I will not fall. I will not falter. I will stand strong against you, and you will be beaten. You will be destroyed.

FUCK YOU CANCER.

Etched In Stone

2009-08-05T20:50:00.002-05:00

Today's been nothing short of horrible. Seeing his name etched in stone...in such a formal manor...just tore me up. I barely made it out of the car and had started walking towards it when I started to cry. I touched it, so cold...and the tears continued to flow, harder now. I touched his name. I ran my fingers across it...hoping that it felt like him...but it didn't. Jason is gone.

Back In Boston

2009-08-04T20:42:00.002-05:00

Hello from Boston... from the guest bedroom of Jason's parents house. Hello from less than a mile away from where my love is buried.

It's extremely weird to be back here...alone. The last time I was here, I was here with Jerrod and my mother. We had a job to do, and we did it. The time before that, I was here with Jason...laying with him in the very bed I lay in alone now.

Jane (Jason's mom) took me to the cemetery today after I arrived so I could say hello. I only took a few minutes there, as she was waiting in the car. The headstone is supposed to be put in tomorrow, and I plan on going over there to spend some alone time with him.

I thought about writing a letter to him and leaving it there...but when I was on the plane ready to write, I couldn't. Everything I wrote down didn't feel right. Then I wrote "There are no words to say." And that's true. There are no words. I can't put into words how I'm feeling...how much I hurt...how empty and alone I feel. There are simply no words. No words, except for "I love you."

Besides, I know that from where Jason is now...he can see into my heart. He knows what I'm thinking...what I'm feeling. I know that I can talk to him whenever and where ever I want. I don't have to be at his grave. But, there's something sacred about talking to him there. It's almost as if he's there in front of me listening to my every word - every thought... every emotion.

Ron (Jason's dad) said he's dreamt of Jason a lot in the last couple weeks. I told him that I wish I had been so lucky. I longed for the nights when Jason would come to me in my dreams. I pray for it every night before I go to bed. I wonder "Will this be the night when I get to see him again?" I have dreamt of him several times...and each time I wake up with a new sense of calm, and almost slight happiness.

I hope he comes to me tonight...I mean...if he's gonna come to his dad, I'm just downstairs, surely he'll come to me too. :)

Here's hoping.

Stuart

Deleting Jason

2009-08-03T00:07:00.002-05:00

It's been an interesting weekend. I was supposed to be taking some friends on the new boat, but the weather had other plans. Instead, I went to the Sprint store to purchase a new phone. My other one was on its death bed...so it was time to upgrade.

While standing at the counter, the Sprint man said he'd be able to transfer all of my pictures to the new phone. That didn't happen. Only a few of them moved. I lost several pictures of Jason. I didn't realize it until I was already out of the store, though...and by then my old phone had been cleared.

I also didn't realize until after it was all said and done that all my text messages from the old phone would disappear. I lost every single text message from Jason that I'd been holding onto. And yes, before you even ask if I ever read them...I did. I read them when I felt sad. I read them when I wanted to "hear from him". My heart leapt into my throat when I realized they were gone, but there was nothing I could do to get them back... just like him. I had to let them go...just like him.

Tonight, as I'm on the eve of the eve of my trip to Boston and New York, I was wanting to upload some new songs to Jason's iPod which I've now taken possession of. However, thanks to iTunes and iPod's super special security settings... for whatever reason, I can't add songs to the iPod. It kept asking me if I wanted to sync...which would completely erase everything on the iPod and add all of my stuff to it. Of course, I didn't want to do that... there are more than 1700 songs already on there. That includes the amazing "Stuart" playlist Jason created a short time before he died. Once again, I was faced with the question - delete Jason or don't. I didn't in this case. I don't want to let go of the "Stuart" playlist. I just can't. Losing the text messages was enough loss for me this weekend.

So anyway, I'm pretty much packed (a day early) for my trip. I fly to Boston on Tuesday to stay with Jason's parents for a couple days. I'll be visiting Jason, too, of course. Hopefully, the headstone will be put up before Tuesday. On Thursday, I'll make my way to New York to party it up with my childhood best friend, Michael for his birthday. Very much looking forward to that part of the trip.

I'll be sure to take lots of pictures.

Until next time...

Stuart

It Would Be An Honor

2009-07-30T23:26:00.002-05:00

I received a call today from a woman with the Dallas Light The Night Walk organization. She and I met at my station a couple weeks ago to chat about the walk and ways to promote it. We had a great chat, and I learned that Team Jason is one of the top fundraisers so far. Very cool!

Today she called to ask me a favor. They've decided to do something different this year. Normally, at the Light The Night event, they'll have a memorial/remembrance ceremony before the walk starts. She explained that they've never felt right about it...that it's never felt like they've given the victims of Leukemia/Lymphoma the time and respect needed to honor them during this service. This year, they're taking a cue from another chapter, and they're creating a seperate event. It'll be the Dallas Remembrance Ceremony for all of the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society sub groups - like Team in Training and Light the Night.

She called to tell me about the event, and then she shocked me. They want me to host the event in honor of Jason. They want me to share his story in honor of the countless others who've fought and lost battles with blood cancer. After I got over the inital shock, I was so unbelievably honored and humbled. I said YES, of course.

It later sunk in the enormity of this task. I have to stand in front of what could be hundreds of people (though most likely it'll be a lot less) and tell Jason's story...and my own. I have to talk about his fight, his struggle, and his death. I have to be strong up there...and not break down like I did at the funeral when reading my speech. That's going to be the hardest task of them all. But I'm up to it. It's a challenge that I accept...without a doubt.

I began thinking later tonight...I hope Jason is proud of what I'm doing in his name. Team Jason has been a success so far. Between his friend Jerrod and I, we've raised nearly $2,000! The walk is still 3 months away. The $3,000 goal I set at the beginning may be too low. I may have to raise that to $5,000. I can't tell you how proud I am of all of this. I just hope Jason is. I think he would be. I think he'd be embarrassed by all the attention, and I laugh when I say this... he's not here to say no! Finally, I get to say to him - sit back and shut up and take in all the love, the kind words, and the overwhelming feeling of support for you. Take it all in and let it fill you...because it is amazing how many lives you touched...and these people need to tell you that.

Until next time...

Stuart

Hardly A Hero

2009-07-29T00:17:00.002-05:00

I found this song tonight and its words just struck me. The first verse and chorus gave me chills.

Hardly A Hero by Levi Kreis:

Just an ordinary man
Thrown into a life I didn't plan
Suddenly my world has changed
I'm unprepared to make my way
My resolve is growing weak
So unsure of who I'm supposed to be
The one who takes the noble path
Or the one who wants what he can never have

And I'm hardly the hero
This is the only thing I know to do
To make it through
But I need you to believe
That beneath this bravado
I'd still give anything to have a chance
To get you back
And I'm hardly a hero for that

Exuberant and terrified
Every time I look into your eyes
But I can't entertain the thought
Cuz we both know I'm not the man you thought I was

And I'm hardly the hero
This is the only thing I know to do
To make it through
But I need you to believe
That beneath this bravado
I'd still give anything to have a chance
To get you back
And I'm hardly a hero for that

The ones I love will always be
The ones who pay the price
And so I set aside my dreams
To do the thing that's right
And keep it all inside

And I'm hardly the hero
This is the only thing I know to do
To make it through
But I need you to believe
That beneath this bravado
I'd still give anything to have a chance
To love again
And I'm hardly the hero for that
Yeah I'm hardly a hero

A week Turns Into Another Month

2009-07-28T23:05:00.004-05:00

July 28th. 2 months have passed now. It feels like yesterday that I was saying that about 1 month. I can't believe another month has gone by without him. The saying is "Time flies when you're having fun." I haven't had a lot of fun, but it still flew by.

We got the house on the market, and have already seen a huge interest in it. That's a good sign and hopefully it won't be on the market long. I go back and forth in my feeling about letting go of the house. At first I was excited when I heard it was being shown the day after we posted it. Then I found out that person requested a second look several days later and I realized this could all be wrapped up very quickly. My heart began to hurt, and I caught myself before having a panic attack.

This past weekend...I had one last hurrah in the house that was to be ours. My best friend Tanya was in town visiting from Atlanta. We stayed at the house rather than cramming ourselves in my one bedroom apartment. It was a FANTASTIC weekend...and I think I'm glad to say that while my final memories of the house aren't with Jason, at least they're filled with love and happiness. That's what's going to get me through this next step in closing this chapter.

I've really been doing good over the last couple weeks. There were some downer days while we were packing up the house, but all in all...I'd say I've laughed and smiled a helluva lot more than I cried. I'm starting to remember the good times, the great times...and I'm not replaying the final days over as much. I guess this is what they call healing.

I talked to Jason tonight. I asked for his help tomorrow. My brother is taking the dog he's had for the last 14 years to be put down tomorrow afternoon. My heart breaks for him because I know he's completely torn up about it. He and Debo (the dog) have been through so much together. I asked Jason (my brother) if he wanted me to go with him, but he said no...he wants to do it by himself. I completely understand. But, he won't be alone. My Jason will be there. I asked him to be tonight. I asked him to be there to take Debo and to look after him. Jason loved dogs...so I know Debo will be in great hands.

I leave a week from today to go to Boston to see him. The tombstone is supposed to be up sometime this week, so I'm looking forward to seeing that when I get there. After a day and a half in Boston, I fly to New York City to spend the weekend with my childhood best friend Michael for his birthday. I'm VERY much looking forward to that part of the trip. I haven't been to NYC in years.

I can't believe it's already been 2 months.

Until next time...

Stuart

Emotional Boxes

2009-07-18T22:52:00.002-05:00

What a difference a day makes. Last night's blog was all about moving on, lifting spirits, and being ready. Tonight...I feel like I've taken a giant leap backwards.

Today we broke through most of the boxes that had been sitting untouched in Jason's home office. Contained inside were most of his personal belongings...pictures, cards, and trinquets. I was doing ok until I was looking through the stack of Playbills that he had collected. I came across the Playbill for The Lion King. It was our first big date...just two weeks after we'd actually met in person. His ticket was still inside the program. I held the program against my face, hoping to smell him on it. I held it against my chest hoping to feel him there. When I didn't, I got upset and had to leave the room where the others were still working.

I composed myself and went back in to continue. The next thing was a giant envelope full of greeting cards. They were all the cards people had sent him throughout his illness. I went through separating all of the cards that I had given him. Early on in his illness, I had gotten in the habit of hiding "Thinking of You" or "Get Well" or "I love you" cards around his house. It was something that I felt I could do...something, he later told me, that brought a smile to his face. Sometimes I'd hide the card and he wouldn't find it for weeks...but when he did...it was after a set-back...a rough chemo treatment or something like that. It was almost like I was being directed when and where to place them so that he would find them when he most needed them. He had kept every single one of them...which set me off crying again. I read them...and for most of them...remembered writing the notes inside...and remember where I hid them.

It was extremely difficult dividing up his things...his most personal possessions among the 5 of us (his parents, myself, Jerrod, Rob, and the trash). It's hard to realize that this is the final stage...that after all of this is done, I really do have to let go. I guess I'm not as ready to do that as I thought.

All in due time, I guess.

Until next time...

Stuart

Packing Up & Moving On

2009-07-17T22:16:00.003-05:00

It's been an interesting day to say the least. After doing some work this morning, I, along with Jason's parents and two friends, began to pack up Jason's life. We're removing most of his personal belongings from the house so that we can put it on the market. Hopefully we'll be able to sell it quickly so his estate doesn't incur more costs.

We started in the guest room...cleaning out the closets where he had hung his coats and other things that didn't fit in the master bedroom closet. From there we moved into the master bedroom tackling the armoire and all of his sweaters. It was a very weird feeling going through his clothes piece by piece...all of us deciding whether we wanted to keep it or toss it. Each of us took several pieces that meant something to us...or that we could weave into our own wardrobe. Still, though...it just felt weird.

Everyone kept asking me if I was ok...if I was handling this ok...and how I really felt. It left me wondering if I should be feeling more strongly about what's going on than I am. I'm sad...sure...but honestly...I'm looking forward to finishing this part up, selling the house, and saying goodbye to the final piece of this horrible puzzle. This house, while I love it dearly...needs to go. I've talked to some widows who have said they could never let go of the home where their partners have died. I don't feel that way.

This house is the one we were to share together. This house is something he chose. This is where we grew closer together...where we shared a bed. This is where we painted the living room...hung hanging plants in the backyard...and had countless conversations. But, it's also the house where he was most sick. It's the house that we came to after hearing that he had two months to live. It's the house where I watched him break down crying because he couldn't put up his own Christmas tree. And...it's the house where he died. He died 10 feet away from where I sit now typing this blog. I look at that spot and all I see is that awful hospital bed with him lying in it. I can still see his parents and I standing there holding his hand as he took his last breath. I see it every time I walk in here. I don't want to see it anymore.

More and more, I'm starting to realize that I'm beginning to feel ready to move on. I'm beginning to think that I need to close this chapter of my life and begin anew. Am I wrong for wanting to do this not even two months before the love of my life left me? I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm tired of crying about it. I'm tired of feeling like I can't let go. Jason would be screaming at me right now to get over it! Maybe I need to listen to him.

Until next time...

Stuart

They're Back!

2009-07-16T22:42:00.003-05:00

Tonight, I picked up Jason's parents from the airport. They're back in Dallas to get things with the house situated. We'll be packing up most of Jason's personal belongings and getting the house ready to put on the market. We have a meeting with the realtor on Friday to set the price and sign the listing contract.

It's going to be a bittersweet weekend...but honestly, I'm looking forward to the tasks ahead. I think it'll do us all some good to surround ourselves with Jason's things...his memories. I think it'll all help us have final closure and help us all to begin to really let go.

It amazes me to think that it's been a month now since we buried that beautiful urn at the grave in Hudson, MA. It also amazes me at how little closure something like that brings. I thought for sure that I would feel closure after the funeral...but it was almost worse afterwards.

So, it'll be onward and upward from this weekend forth. It's time to put this house and the memories contained within away. They'll be tucked into my mind...in my heart...and in my soul forever. I will call on them when I need them...and they'll always be there for me. I'm ready to let this house go. I'm ready to let go of the pain and sadness.

It's going to be a good weekend. There will be times of sadness...times of frustration...but there will also be times of fun...sharing memories...and laughter. I'm looking forward to it.

Until next time --

Stuart

A Weekend, A Boat, and a Tear

2009-07-13T20:30:00.003-05:00

It's been a few days since my last blog...and something exciting has happened. My brother and I have been talking about doing this for a month or so...and we finally did it. We bought a BOAT!!

It's a 1994 Four Winns 20' open bow. It looks fantastic and has a nearly new engine. We got it on Saturday and spent most of Sunday out on the water. It was fantastic!! I had a great time, and can't wait to get back on it.

One of the things Jason wanted to do before he died was get on a boat and hang out on the water. Things went too fast, and we weren't able to do it. That's one of the reasons why I wanted to go in on this deal with my brother. I wanted to do this for Jason. This way - everytime I'm on the boat, he'll be there with me...having a great time. I even wore my "Team Jason" t-shirt for the inaugural ride out. I want him to be there with me experiencing all of it.

My crying fits have stopped for the most part over the last few days. That is until earlier when I was talking to a friend about everything. I hadn't talked to him much since Jason was gone, so we had a lot of catching up to do. It was good to talk to him, but I didn't think I would react the way I did when I started talking about Jason. I guess I had lulled myself in to a sense that I wouldn't get upset when I talked about it. Guess I was wrong.

Jason's parents arrive on Thursday. We'll be getting the house ready to put on the market. Hopefully that'll happen on Friday...and if we play our cards right, the house will sell fairly quickly. We'll be hosting an estate sale once the contract is signed and before the closing. I think this is going to be an emotional time. I don't know how I'm gonna feel about letting the house go once and for all. It's the last link I have to him. It's where he died.

Anyway, work is keeping me busy this week, which is a good thing. I'm looking forward to seeing Jason's folks. I can't believe it's already been a month since we buried him. It was a month ago today. Wow. And the tears begin again.

Until next time...

Stuart

Walking On Eggshells

2009-07-09T09:47:00.002-05:00

Last night, my mother told me she felt like she had to walk on eggshells around me. She said that I've been distant...cold...and rude. She said she just wants to know that I'm ok...to which I replied "I'm not ok, and I'm being distant because I'm trying figure out and rediscover myself...who I am without Jason." I told her that I may seem cold and rude simply because she asks too many damn fucking questions and I don't feel like answering them.

I wonder now, though, if others feel like they're having to walk on eggshells when they're around me or talking to me. I sincerely hope not. If that's the case then I need a serious readjustment. But, if people won't say anything to me...or are afraid to...how can I change?

I told my mom that she's just going to have to be patient with me. I said its not everyday you lose someone who you shared a bed with...who you cared for over the course of a year. Once again, I found myself having to justify my feelings...my grief....and I don't like having to do that time and time again. I'll withdraw from everyone if I have to to get some fucking peace and quiet! What part of "I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE" don't people understand?

No Cry Day

2009-07-08T16:03:00.002-05:00

Today's the first day in more than a week that I haven't felt like I was on the verge of tears all day. There've been a few moments when I thought I could cry, but none that have left me scrambling for a tissue.

I reconnected with a woman I did a story on last year around this time. Her name is Jocelyn and she lost her husband, Brian, in the war in Iraq. She's 28 years old now and has been a widow for several years already. I remember thinking to myself a year ago when I interviewed her that I'd never be able to understand what she's been through. How things can change in a year. While I didn't lose my love on a battlefield in a foreign country, I did lose him on the battlefield of science and medicine. He died fighting an enemy just as evil as the insurgents in Iraq.

Other than the way they died, there is one profound difference in the deaths of these two great men. I was able to be there by Jason's bedside when he took his final breath. I was able to shower him with love, affection, and assurance that we would all be ok after he'd gone. Jocelyn wasn't given that opportunity. She didn't find out about Brian's death until many hours after it had happened. But I question whether I got the better side of that or not. Is it better to have been there, to have witnessed it? I sent her an email this afternoon to ask her that question. I'm very interested to hear her point of view.

Here's the story I produced about her and the group she helped start. It's called The American Widow Project. They are our country's forgotten heroes...fighting the war on terror from home.

In other non-related news...it looks like my brother and I will be co-owners of a new (to us) boat! We'll be taking it for the weekend to try it out and see how we like it. If all goes well, we'll be boat owners by Monday! I'm extremely excited about this, and very much looking forward to some awesome times on the lake for the rest of the summer.

Until next time...
Stuart

Crying Helps

2009-07-07T00:36:00.002-05:00

When I got into bed last night, I began to cry. I cried harder and harder until I was in full bawl mode. I cried for about 30 minutes straight...only taking breaks to blow my nose. The words I wrote in my last blog struck a nerve, I think. The last part...about being happy.

I think I got scared last night that I might never be happy again. Not like happy as in "Oh I'm having a good day". Happy as in a "Oh I have everything I've been looking for" kind of way. I tried to tell Jason how happy he made me, but I don't know that he ever fully understood. He does now. He knows my entire heart now.

Why am I so fixated on finding love again...finding happiness again? Why am I letting it consume me at night...every night? I'm not over Jason...not nearly at all. I never will be over Jason. I'm not even sure I've begun to process what happened. So why the pressure on myself to move on romantically? I think it's because of a conversation he and I had in the car one day on our way back from the hospital. He was very concerned with the fact that I wouldn't move on after he'd died. He told me that he wanted me to move on...to meet someone else...to be happy again. I laughed at him and told him he was crazy. I said that of course I'd move on, but that it wouldn't be for quite a while. I mean, my last relationship was several years ago - and that guy just cheated on me. Imagine how long it'll take me to get over my partner dying! But yet - as I recall that conversation...I'm wondering now if subconsciously I'm putting pressure on myself to fulfill his wishes.

I chatted with someone tonight online. It was the first time I've chatted with someone there at length in a long time. He made me laugh...made me smile. He also made me forget for a little bit that I was sad. I thanked him for doing that. He even asked some questions about Jason. He seemed genuinely interested in knowing me, knowing what I've just been through. He was sympathetic and caring...even though we'd only just "met". He made me realize that maybe I'd put too little stock in the gay community in my previous posts. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there are more "good guys" out there who will look at what I've just been through as a badge of honor, rather than a scarlet letter. It's too bad this guy lives in Michigan. LOL

I'm heading to bed in a few minutes...desperately hoping that I don't have a repeat performance of last night's waterworks. All in due time, I guess. I still haven't figured out why this weekend was so hard. It doesn't make sense. Maybe it will be clearer tomorrow.

Until then...

Stuart

Missing You

2009-07-05T19:26:00.003-05:00

Why do I miss you more this weekend than I have in previous weekends? Do I really miss you more, or am I just feeling it more now? I'm guessing its the latter question.

I went back to DFW Founders Plaza to talk to you. It was crowded, so I stayed in my car. The planes were taking off towards the north this time...so instead of watching landings, I watched the take-offs. It was a nice change. I enjoy watching the take-offs more than the landings. There's something magnificent about each take-off. Maybe that's why you enjoyed this so much. It's breathtaking to watch. Maybe that's you underneath each plane, lifting it up off the ground.

I miss holding your hand. I miss feeling your gentle grip on my leg. I miss the nights when I would get into bed with you and kiss you goodnight. I miss our routine. It was like our own special dance...only the two of us knew it. It was so simple and so trivial, but not doing it now...I miss it so much. I miss just being in your presence...watching you sleep...hearing you breathe. I miss every little thing about you.

I also miss who I was when I was with you. I was happy.

Stuart...Meet Loneliness. Again.

2009-07-05T11:17:00.004-05:00

Loneliness is something I've dealt with many times in my life. After high school, I had one meaningful relationship before I came out of the closet. I came out in 1999 and since then I've had fewer relationships than the fingers on one hand. Little did I know I've been in a meaningful relationship this whole time...with loneliness. Its been my partner far long than anyone...no matter how many times I've tried to break it off.

Jason was the first man I've ever connected with on a deeper level. He got me almost more than I get myself. I got him, too. More than he wanted at times. We could read each others minds and finish each others sentences. I knew from our very first conversation online that he was different than any other man I'd chatted with.

I remember it so well. I was laying on the floor of my living room chatting away on gay.com. I was fairly new to Dallas, so I was still considered "new meat". I saw Jason's picture pop up in the chat room and was instantly attracted. I sent him an instant message completely expecting to be ignored like many others had done to me that night. He didn't though. He said hi right back. We chatted for about two hours that night. We continued to chat for about two months on the computer then on the phone before we decided it was time to meet.

It was gay pride weekend and we both realized we'd be out at the same time and place. We texted at the bar and he made his way into the room I was in. I saw him before he saw me...and I was immediately smitten. I had a big dipey smile on my face by the time he made it over to say hi. We chatted for a few minutes before he left to return to his friends. I texted him a few minutes later and asked him to dinner. The following week, we had our first date at PF Changs...my favorite restaurant.

From that moment on, I was hooked. Jason wasn't quite sure, though. It took a few more months of convincing before he would call me his boyfriend...though we were practically together from that very first date. I fell so madly in love with him. I fell harder than I've ever fallen before. But in February of '08, things had grown cold between us physically, and we both decided it was over. We remained friends, though, and quite honestly, I never stopped loving him.

That's why when he was diagnosed with that monster three months later I went head over heels again to help him. I loved him like I've never loved anything else in this life. It was my duty, my job, my honor, and my pleasure to help him...to do whatever it took to see that he was taken care of. He resisted for a while at first...just like he had at the beginning of our relationship. But, like that, he relaxed some and let me in. That's when we got back together in my mind...though it wasn't official for several more months. Several weeks before he died, he was hospitalized for pain management. The nurse one night asked us how long we'd been together. Without skipping a beat, he said two years. I knew then that he disregarded our time "apart"...just as I had.

In the nearly two years since we met, I never once felt lonely. The second I met him...the loneliness I had always felt disappeared. I suppose that only happens when you're standing in front of your soulmate...the person who makes your life complete. Jason was that man for me. He killed loneliness from my life, but the second he died loneliness was reborn. Just like a newborn baby, it grows bigger every day...nursed by emptiness & pain.

I am now a wounded soul. I'm incomplete. My other half is gone...and I'm not entirely sure if the missing half will ever be filled back in. I know no man will ever be able to replace Jason in my life. No man will ever be able to take his place in my heart. But, I'm afraid there's no man who will even want to try. Can my wounded soul ever be mended? If so, is there a man on this earth who possesses the tools to fix it?

I guess its a good sign that there is still a very small part of me that answered those questions "I hope so". Hope exists somewhere in my soul. I feel it there. I just hope I can remember to feed that sometimes...instead of the loneliness.

Until next time...
Stuart

The Fourth of July

2009-07-04T23:31:00.003-05:00

I sat at my brother's house tonight to watch the neighbors shoot off fireworks in the street. Its the annual "White Trash Fourth", but this year wasn't the same.

Last year, Jason was a month into his first chemo treatment and had had a bad reaction to some of the new meds he was on. He had a horrible rash that covered his entire body. It was there for about 2 months straight. He was very self conscious about it and didn't like being seen in public. I was able to convince him to come to the 4th celebration at my brother's, though. He said later it was good to get out of the house. Despite his being upset at the way he looked, it was still special to spend the holiday with him. We ate, laughed, watched the fireworks go off over our heads. It was a nice evening.

I was looking forward to partying it up this year. But...it just doesn't feel like the 4th. After getting there, I realized I didn't feel much like celebrating. Instead, I just wanted to come home and get on the couch and vegg. I had two drinks and decided I was done.

I suspect the next few holidays will feel like this. I'd rather just get them over with, so I can start to feel like celebrating again. I just don't feel like I have anything to celebrate today. It's our country's birthday. Woo - freakin' - whoo. I'd rather have the man I love standing next to me.

Until next time...
Stuart

A Guardian Angel Named Jason

2009-07-01T21:45:00.002-05:00

A Letter To My New Guardian Angel:

My dearest love,

I wish you were here to talk to me. I so need your guidance, advice, and counsel right now. I'm about to embark on what I hope will be an amazing new journey in my life, and I need you by my side.

Several months before you died, we talked many times about the changes I wanted to make in my career. You knew how unsatisfied I was (and still am) in my current position. It's because of you and that awful disease that I seek this change, and as weird as this sounds...I couldn't thank you or cancer enough.

In the coming weeks, I hope to begin to turn my hatred of the disease that took you away from me into something meaningful...something useful...and something fulfilling. Cancer may have stolen the love of my life, but I'm going to make sure that it will give back to me in many other ways.

So, as I prepare for what lies ahead tomorrow and the days and weeks to come, I know that you'll be by my side to help me be the best I can be. I know that you'll be up there pulling as many strings as you can to make this happen for me. I know that when I get this job that I want almost as much as I want you back, I will have you to thank.

Please give me strength to get through this. Give me wisdom I'll need to move forward. Give me calm and understanding to deal with the problems I'll face. Most of all, continue to give me the love and support you have for the last two years.

I love you so incredibly much, and miss you more than you can ever imagine. Come visit me in my dreams soon.

I love you.

Stuart

My Chat Buddy

2009-06-29T20:55:00.002-05:00

Today for work, I had to sit through the opening statements of the Dallas City Hall corruption and bribery trial. I normally don't find these things very interesting...and still don't. However, it made me miss Jason because this was exactly the sort of thing we'd love to debate. I'd say how utterly useless and stupid this trial would be, and he'd take the other side and say it's necessary to oust the idiots in power.

I miss the chats he and I used to have. We debated the stories I work on...and while at first I would get defensive about it, it grew on me...and I looked forward to telling him about the latest breast implant I was profiling...or some new way to go grocery shopping...only to hear him say how stupid it was and that I could be doing more with my time.

I also miss him chastizing me for not taking my work more serious. On a typical day, I walk into the newsroom wearing shorts, a polo, and tennis shoes. I don't dress, because I don't see the point. If there's a day when I have an important "formal" interview with someone, I will dress...but on the days when I'm logging tape or have a basic interview...I don't see what the big deal is. Jason hated the fact that I never "dressed" the professional part. Well today, he would've given me a big fat "I TOLD YOU SO". I got in trouble today for wearing shorts - because they wanted to send me to court. So my boss told me that I'm being required to dress more "professionally". Whatever. I'll be going to work tomorrow in jeans. It's fucking 104 degrees outside. I work outside for a majoring of my days (unless im inside logging and writing). I'll be damned if I'm gonna be a puddle of sweat all day. And thus why I miss my love...because he'd have some witty, shitty things to say to me.

It's just one more thing that I'll have to get used to... no more snarky comments about my work. Though, I will say - hopefully in the next few weeks...I'll be switching jobs and will have to reform and actually dress for work...tie and all. OH NO!!!

Until next time...

Stuart

June 28th

2009-06-28T01:02:00.002-05:00

We're an hour into June 28th now. It's officially been one month since the love of my life took his last breath.

Tonight, Jason's friends (and now my friends) Jerrod and Rob and I got together for dinner and then went out for drinks. We decided we needed a night on the town to celebrate Jason and help us forget that at the stroke of midnight, it would officially be the 28th. We had a good time, and it was actually kinda nice being back out on the town.

On the drive home, though...it hit me. It's June 28th...it's already been a month. I just can't seem to wrap my mind around that. There was a moment today when I was standing in the bathroom at his house and I actually thought it might've been a bad dream. That moment passed quickly and I realized that this was my reality now. I've been trying to remember every single detail about the last few minutes of his life...though I'm sure it's probably not a good idea for me to replay that over and over. I have to though...I have to replay it over and over and over...otherwise I won't think it's real.

I just still can't believe he's gone. I still can't believe he's dead. I still can't believe that I stood next to him, holding his hand while he took his last breath. I still can't believe that I watched as the funeral home covered his body and carried him away from me. I still can't believe that I had to pick up an urn with his ashes and bury it in Boston. I still can't believe that the man I looked up to for the last two years...the man I respected and love with every fiber of my being is gone. I don't believe it. It just doesn't seem real.

Four Weeks...Plus Farrah.

2009-06-25T21:36:00.000-05:00

Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with rectal cancer today. It's the first major cancer death since Jason passed away...four weeks ago today. The moment I heard of her death, I was transported back to 5:06am on May 28th. I was standing by Jason's bedside, holding his hand...telling him how much I love him as he took his final breath and let go.

Tonight has been a night of reflection, remembering, and reminiscing. I had dinner with the lead oncology nurse from Jason's team. She's an amazing woman who Jason and I became close friends with over the last year. She was there with us through it all and even in the end. She visited Jason at the house hours before he died. She came to the memorial service in Dallas and spoke about what an amazing patient he was...and how things on the BMT floor would never been the same without him walking through the door.

We talked a lot about the final weeks of Jason's life...how everything played out. We compared notes, talked about signs, feelings, thoughts, and wishes. She opened up to me about her feelings since Jason's death...and how his passing has hit her harder than any other patient she's ever had. Jason touched her life - and having heard everything said about him at the memorial, his impact grew. I found it funny, though, that she didn't realize how much of an impact SHE had on his life...and mine. She was our guide through this journey, and I couldn't imagine having to go through this time without her. She is truly an amazing woman.

After I left dinner, I was feeling quite unsettled. I decided to pay a visit to Founders Plaza at DFW airport. This is the spot I spoke of several blogs ago. It's the place I will go to be closer to Jason...and when I need to "see" him. It was a gorgeous night...not too hot. I sat outside on top of a table there and just cried. I cried because I miss him. I cried because I love him. I cried because I wish he would've known in life what kind of impact he had on people...rather than finding out in death. I spoke to him there and felt the warm breeze against my tears...as if it was his way of answering back. I sat there for almost two hours before it began getting crowded. So I headed for home.

I made the mistake of turning on the TV...and I began watching the Barbara Walters special on Farrah Fawcett. Ryan O'Neal...Farrah's partner of nearly 30 years...said he loved going to her house to care for her. He loved spending time with her in bed...caring for the woman he loved. She is his soulmate, and he wouldn't imagine being anywhere else but by her side. Hearing him say that made me cry again. FINALLY someone else feels the same way I do. FINALLY someone else is expressing the same feelings I had and still have. Barbara asked him if cancer had changed his life too...and he said yes, absolutely. Cancer took away his soulmate...how can he not be changed from that. He's right. Cancer took away my soulmate, and changed me forever.

On this four week anniversary...I feel like I haven't made much progress in my grief. I think I've lulled myself into thinking that I had begun to move on...that I had started to put my life back together. And then tonight...the death of a star snaps me back into reality and I realize that I'm no more closer to moving on than I was the moment Jason's died. As I write this, I still have tears streaming down my face, soaking the pillow beneath my chin. I begin to cry again every time I type the words "Jason died" or any variation thereof. I've said it and typed it countless times in these four weeks...but tonight, it seems to take on new meaning.

I'm saddened by Farrah's death, but I'm even more saddened by the fact that the brave death of this amazing woman who fought so hard to live is being overshadowed by the sudden death of Michael Jackson. So what if people expected Farrah to pass today. Her death - after fighting cancer so incredibly hard - should be hailed tonight. Except for Barbara's special, it appears her death will merely be a footnote in today's news...and that makes me cry even more.

Until next time...

Stuart

It's Happening Again

2009-06-22T23:03:00.000-05:00

My heart hurts, and I feel sick to my stomach. It's happening again, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. For the first time through this whole thing - I'm asking WHY!? Why do things like this have to happen??

My best friend Amy caught me this afternoon and asked me to help a co-worker of hers...Eddie. Eddie was telling her that the man he'd been seeing for a while had just confessed that he had been battling lymphoma off and on for the last few years. It's back, and more aggressive...and now he's facing chemo, radiation, etc. The man with the cancer told Eddie that he was giving him an "out" and that he'd understand if he didn't want to stick around. Eddie, taking a page out of my book, told the guy he would be right by his side. However, taking a page out of Jason's book, the guy is trying to push Eddie away...cutting contact with him and not letting him in. Amy wanted me to talk with Eddie about my experiences, and we met tonight to chat.

Listening to Eddie talk took me back to a year ago. It was around this time that I started seeing my counselor and began learning how to talk to and deal with cancer patients. There's a certain way you have to talk to them, offer help to them, and even console them. I'm now offering that same advice to Eddie. But, it absolutely broke my heart to sit and hear him talking about this. It was like looking at myself a year ago. I feel so horrible for him knowing what he's about to go through. I kept telling him that I wish I could tell him to run, but even knowing what I know now...I still would've been by Jason's side every step of the way...and I hope he can be there for this guy through all of his stuff.

I assured Eddie that I'd be there for him, to help him navigate through this difficult time. I feel lucky that I've made it through all of this, and am able to talk about it so openly...enough to now help someone else. Hopefully, I'll be able to use my horrible experience to help someone make the best of their experience. My advice to him already seemed to help. He seemed much more at ease about the situation...and in the time we sat there, I coached him through a couple text messages, and like my counselor helped me - the guy opened right up to Eddie like I said he would. It was a small step...but a step nonetheless. I think Eddie was a little surprised that such a small thing could make such a big difference.

I just feel so unbelievably horrible that this is happening all over again...to another couple who is being robbed of a normal relationship. I admire Eddie, though, for being willing to stick it out. I realize now how tough I am, how tough I was...to be able to break down Jason's walls in the beginning and then to hold him up in the end. In the 4 hours I spent with Eddie tonight, I know he's tough. After all, he's a Taurus...like me. We're stubborn, hard-headed bulls.

To Eddie and David - I wish them the best of luck. I wish them peace, serenity, and hope. But most of all I wish them love. They'll need the love the most. I truly believe our love is what helped keep Jason here as long as possible. I promised Eddie that I will be here for him, to listen to him, to support him, and to help him help David.

I also had a talk with Jason tonight. I told him that this was unacceptable, and he has to stop it. I told him that he needs to make sure that Eddie and David will be taken care of...because he cannot be up there and let this happen to someone else. He's an angel up there for a reason, and he must help them out. I know he can hear me...and I know he'll listen to me. He has to.

Until next time...

Stuart

I Found Love...And Now It's Gone

2009-06-21T01:24:00.000-05:00

I found love. I found it two years ago. I found it online...go figure. I found it in a man I least expected. I found love after searching for it for years. I found love, and now it's gone. Well, let me rephrase that. I found love, and now HE'S gone.

I just finished watching a movie that used to make me smile. It used to make me feel warm...fuzzy...and give me hope that someday I'd find true love. That movie was Sex & The City. I adored that show and movie before. While a lot of it was senseless nonsense, its underlying message that true love always prevails was exactly what I needed to see. I watched that show every night...whether I'd seen the episodes or not. Jason thought I was insane for wasting time watching something I've seen so many times. It wasn't about the show, though. It was about the message that show carried for me. Hope, faith, and love.

Since Jason's death, I haven't watched the TV show at all. I've deleted each recorded SATC show on my DVR since May 28th. I can't stand to watch it and face that message right now. That show doesn't mean anything to me anymore. Hope, faith, and love. I had all of those things and they were ripped from my tight grip...and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I loved that show because I connected with it...before. Now...I don't. Never once did they ever deal with what I've just been through...or did they?

Tonight, I decided to sit down and watch the SATC movie. I'd only seen it twice, so I figured why not. A particular scene touched a nerve. Carrie had been left at the alter by Mr. Big...and several months had gone by. She was walking through a Duane Reed store with Miranda and explained that she still didn't believe it (him dumping her on their wedding day) had happened to her. She hadn't let go of the fact that the love she cherished was ripped from her heart in the matter of an instant. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she had found the love of her life, and he was gone. She was mourning the death of love from her life. Is this so different than what I'm going through? So many of the statements she made standing in that store...I've made myself over the last three weeks.

Of course at the end of the movie, Carrie marries Mr. Big and lives happily ever after (or so we think until #2 comes out). Obviously, that's where my story takes a different turn. I won't get that happy ending with Jason. But, does that mean I'm denied a happy ending like that? For each of those women, they had one true love. If Jason was mine, at 29 years old...will I never find that again?

I had an interesting conversation on Friday with a woman who lost her husband 12 years ago to cancer. I was sharing my experiences of the last three weeks and she began to cry. I felt horrible for making her upset...but she explained that as I was talking she began to cry because she had traveled the road that I am now driving...and she felt sorry for me. She told me that even 12 years later, she still thinks of herself as married to her husband. Sure, she's moved on and is now in a new relationship...but she says her heart will always belong to her first love. She told me she felt sorry for her long-time boyfriend because he knows he'll never measure up to the man who came before him. That's a tough pill to swallow for anyone.

That got me thinking about what lies ahead in my life. It takes a special man to be able to swallow that pill. It takes a special man to know that he'll always be second-best...that he'll always play second fiddle to the man who came before him. The thought of that man made me cry. Can you imagine how hard it was for her to find someone to swallow that pill? Can you imagine how hard it will be for me to find someone like that? You might say: "Well, if she found him, so can you." Consider this: She's in a straight world...and I am not.

Many of you reading may find that comment inflammatory and upsetting, but I believe it to be true. The gay community as a whole is not one full of love. I take that back. It is full of love, love for one's self...not for a partner. I realize there are quite a few exceptions to that, but I offer you this challenge. Go to a gay bar in your area and pull 10 guys aside. Ask each one what he's looking for - love or sex. I guarantee you more than half of those men will answer sex. It's sad, but true. In the minds of many gay men...sex = love. Of the men in our informal study who said they were looking for love, I'd ask when their last relationship was...how long it lasted, and why it ended. The answer to the first part doesn't matter, but I bet the relationship only lasted a few months and ended with some form of cheating. It's sad really. It's sad that for so many gay men sex = love. So many of them won't find the truth about love until much later in their lives, and by then they've lost so much precious time to experience it.

I, on the other hand, have experienced it...and I'll never let it go. There will come a time when I have to let go of the loss I've suffered, but the love - the love I feel for Jason and the love he felt for me - will stay with me forever. However, at some point, that will provide little comfort when I'm lying in bed alone at night...longing to feel someone's arms wrapped around me. His love will provide little comfort when I long to hold a hand, kiss a mouth, or even make love. I will have to go out and find someone to make those things happen. And that's the part that scares me. It took me so long to find Jason...so many lonely nights. At least now I have him, his memory to keep me company. But, will anyone ever be good enough to share Jason's place in my heart? Will anyone even want to?

I have hope that there is someone else out there for me. I have hope that when the time is right...Jason will put that man in my life to stand in place where he can't anymore. Until then, I'll continue to comfort myself with the memories of my love, the man who - from now on - will be the measure of all men.

Until next time...

Stuart

The Empty House

2009-06-19T11:15:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was already a pretty rough day...being the 3 week anniversary. And of course, I had to make it harder on myself by staying at Jason's house last night. See, my apartment is in Grapevine which is a 30-40 minute drive from Dallas. When I have to work out of our Dallas office, it makes life so much easier to stay at Jason's...which is 10 minutes from the office.

Anyway - yeah, probably wasn't a good idea to do that yesterday, but I got through it. I felt like I was hit by a truck as soon as I walked in the front door. The house felt so empty. The flowers which had all been there were all gone. The picture of Jason we used at the service was gone (now in Boston). And, of course...Jason's remains are now gone. I took two steps into the house and collapsed on the floor in a ball of tears. I cried for about 20 minutes straight...something I really haven't done this whole time. I think I needed that cry.

After my 20 minute bawl session, I picked myself up off the floor and walked around the house. It just seemed so lifeless...so depressing. I flipped some lights on, turned the TV on... and laid on the couch for the rest of the night. As the night went on, I became more comfortable...the house seemed to come back to life...and I felt like Jason was still there with me. I even pulled a "Jason" and fell asleep on the couch just before the news...waking up sometime after midnight.

Once again, I found that when I'm in his house, in his bed...I sleep! I wonder if it's him trying to tell me to stay there and buy the house. If that's the case, he needs to direct me where I might find the money to do that...LOL. Either way, despite the rough patch when I first got there, all-in-all it felt good to be back in the house.

Until next time...
Stuart

Three Weeks Ago

2009-06-18T09:46:00.000-05:00

Three weeks ago today, the love of my life was gone. Three weeks ago, at 5:06am, a piece of me died. Three weeks ago, my life was turned upside down.

Three weeks ago at this time, I was watching the funeral home wheel Jason's body out of the house...covered in a green blanket. Three weeks ago at this time, I was watching the body of the man I shared my life with for the last two years...leave the house for the last time. Three weeks ago at this time, I realized I would never see that beautiful body again...or hear the beautiful voice that emitted from it.

Three weeks ago, I was telling friends, loved ones, and people I'd never met that Jason had died. Three weeks ago, I was doing something I had only dreamed of in my worst nightmare. Three weeks ago, I was in shock. Three weeks later...I still am.

It's been three weeks...and I still have trouble realizing it was real.

Something Close To Normal

2009-06-18T00:03:00.000-05:00

It's now after midnight...which means...it's Thursday. 5 hours from now will mark the moment 3 weeks ago that my life changed forever. Three weeks. It's been THREE weeks already!? Time sure flies when you're mourning.

I went back to work today...this time for good. No more days off to deal with death...dying...or any variation thereof. No more days off to deal with giving care. It's now time to focus on work once again... and even the possibility of a job change. But more on that at a later date.

On Wednesdays, I used to meet my best friend Amy for dinner with her family. It was a weekly thing until things with Jason got too serious. Today, I restarted that weekly appointment...and it felt good. It felt good to get back to something that I enjoy doing. We had dinner, played the Wii...laughed...talked...and it was great. I almost started to feel guilty for enjoying myself so much, but then I remembered that Jason insisted that I get out and do my own thing. So I took pleasure knowing that I was having fun, and that he was happy for me. A small step in moving forward.

Anyway - that's the buzz that's all the buzz here. I can't wait to tell you all about this job possibility. But I can't yet. Hang tight. Hopefully next week...or the week after that.

Until next time...

Stu

Back To The Grind

2009-06-17T11:37:00.001-05:00

Today's my first day back to work...I'm at work, but I don't think I'm really AT work. I'm here physically, but my mind is elsewhere. Everytime I start to actually do some work, my mind begins to wander and I catch myself drifting off into a daydream.

It feels good to be here, though...in the office. Yesterday was rough. I felt extremely lonely yesterday...and wanted to be around Jason more-so than I had since he died. That's why I went to his spot at the airport...to be closer to him. It made me feel better being there.

I also did some work for the 2009 Dallas Light The Night Walk benefitting the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Jason and I participated in this walk last year, and so it's my promise to him that I will continue to do the walk in his memory. I've become the team captain for Team Jason (click here), and I also created some Team Jason t-shirts. I ordered one shirt yesterday, just to make sure it looks good before I post the link to everyone to buy. But here's what they look like:

I'll let you know how they turn out when I get it. But, I hope you'll all either consider walking with us, or donate to the cause and help us reach our goal. We've got to raise $3,000...and I think we can double that.

Anyway - I should get back to work..and actually DO some work.

Until next time...

Stuart